


Canvas

by lupwned



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Carol is her stunningly gorgeous mother who gives Therese FEELINGS, Eventual Romance, F/F, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Therese is Rindy's schoolteacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:51:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 56,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: "It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge."-X-X-X-X-Four years suffering through a teaching degree and this is what she has to look forward to: a classroom where she can put up cat and puppy posters as she sees fit.“Living the dream, Therese,” she sighs quietly.“Miss Belivet?”The voice that calls her is feminine and smoky, deeper than she’s used to in her small social circle. For some reason unknown to Therese, the tone causes a shiver to run down the back of her neck.





	1. Chapter 1

“Miss Belivet?”

Therese turns on her charcoal black heels toward the sound of the deep, rough voice calling her name. “Yes?”

“Jonathan Freeman.” He extends his arm out for a handshake. “As Principal of Forest Meadow Elementary, welcome to our family.”

Therese forces a smile. She shifts the dark-brown bag dangling from her shoulder and reaches out to reciprocate the handshake. “I’m excited to be here,” she responds, hushed. It’s a blatant lie, one that anyone with an ounce of social skills could decipher from the pained look in her eyes and the way her outstretched hand trembles.

“Let me show you to your classroom.”

Therese responds with a tiny nod before following Jonathan down a brightly lit hallway. The walls are lined with a variety of children’s drawings and various other arts and crafts. Therese is immediately drawn to the waxy trees and clouds, scribbled in the various shades of a Crayola box. The various shades of green and blue make her long for the freedom of her teenage years when she would wander around parks and forests taking photographs and simply admiring the world around her. Therese reaches out and brushes the smooth lines of the drawn tree bark, and she swears she can almost smell and feel the wet, muddy grass against her fingertips.

It’s funny, Therese thinks, how the colors call out to her the way they do. They’re such a stark contrast to the white-painted brick walls of the school, devoid of any real emotion or individuality beyond the specifically chosen showcase of artwork. She’s only been within the confines of the school for less than an hour and she already feels trapped. It is regimented and refined and, despite outward appearances, everything Therese isn’t.

“Your classroom is this way,” Principal Freeman instructs, pointing around the corner where the hallway bends. Wordlessly, Therese follows him. The clang of keys echoes through the long, empty hallways as Jonathan pulls a ring of them from his slacks. He fingers through the collection of them to find the key that corresponds to that particular room – 121 – and Therese lets her eyes wander toward the opposite end of the hallway as she waits for him to unlock the door.

More white and grey. More emptiness.

Therese sighs. She’s about to turn back to Jonathan when a flash of red catches the corner of her eye. Two women stand at the far end of the corner. Therese recognizes the one facing her as Ms. Abby Gerhard, a second grade teacher she’d met during her first orientation earlier in the summer. But the other woman, dressed in a dark red blouse, midnight black pencil skirt and matching heels, is who steals Therese’s attention. She can’t see her face, but Therese knows she’s stunningly beautiful. The mysterious woman’s medium-length hair is curled just slightly at the bottom, and it swishes a bit as she waves her hands animatedly throughout the conversation she’s having.

Therese cranes her neck and moves up on her tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of woman who curiously has her undivided attention. When Abby notices her staring, however, Therese immediately looks away and stares down at her feet, silently willing Jonathan to find the damned key so she can scurry away.

“Here we go!”

The sound of the door opening with a soft ‘click’ is practically music to Therese’s ears. Like a flash, she rushes into the empty classroom, bumping her shoulder against Jonathan’s in the process. “Sorry,” she apologizes quietly.

“I wish other teachers were as excited as you are to see their classrooms,” Jonathan laughs. He flicks on the light switch at the entryway and the room immediately lights up under the glow of the long incandescent rods embedded in the ceiling; Therese can’t help but squint a little from the harshness of it all.

Like the hallways, the room is white and sterile and bland. Despite this, it’s ripe with potential, and Therese’s brain buzzes with possibilities. Perhaps she’ll paint a few canvases to lighten up the place, or finally develop some of her nature photography that’s been sitting in boxes since she moved into her tiny apartment. The options are practically endless.

Principal Freeman gives Therese a mindless tour around the classroom, filling her in on things like where the chalk is stored and how many boxes of dry erase makers she’s allotted a month. (Therese believes the answer is two, but she’s completely checked out of the conversation by the time he makes it to that particular point). In the back of her mind, she knows she should be alarmed by the fact that she’s more excited about the prospect of decorating her classroom than actually _teaching_ in it.

“If you have any questions, feel free to ask me or the ladies at the front office.” Jonathan walks himself to the doorway but doesn’t leave. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Belivet?”

“Oh – no, no thank you,” Therese responds, resting her palm against the wood of her desk.

_Her_ desk. Despite the setting, Therese thinks it certainly does have a nice ring to it.

“Well, don’t hesitate to ask. Have a great weekend, and we’ll see you bright and early on Monday!” Jonathan flashes a little smile and a wave before walking out of the room and into the hallway where the heels of his loafers echo with a rhythmic ‘ _tap_ ’.

Once alone, Therese fumbles inside her bag and pulls out a pad of grey-blue paper and a black-ink pen. She looks around the room and jots down notes in her perfectly winding cursive. Having spent the summer collecting various posters and trinkets, she’s finally ready to make the space her own. Four years suffering through a teaching degree and this is what she has to look forward to: a classroom where she can put up cat and puppy posters as she sees fit.

“Living the dream, Therese,” she sighs quietly.

“Miss Belivet?”

The voice that calls her is feminine and smoky, deeper than she’s used to in her small social circle. For some reason unknown to Therese, the tone causes a shiver to run down the back of her neck.

“I’m Carol. Carol Aird.” This _Carol_ – Therese’s woman in red – laughs breathily. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t startle you. May I come in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first foray into this fandom, so any comments, kudos or encouragement are greatly appreciated! I've contemplated writing a Carol fic for _quite some time_ , but it wasn't until now that the idea fully developed. Thank you for giving my little intro chapter a peek - more to come!!


	2. Chapter 2

All of her life, Therese has been told what to do and how to act.

Sit up straight. Don’t interrupt. Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.

A particular rule comes to Therese’s mind: _Don’t stare_.

And yet, it’s practically impossible to heed her mother’s advice in the presence of the visitor at her classroom doorway. In the deep depths of her mind where her common sense has quickly disappeared to, Therese knows she shouldn’t stand there with her eyes wide and her mouth practically hanging open like a fish out of water, but her sweaty palms and slightly elevated heart rate tell her that there’s no rational thinking now with this Carol Aird nearby.

“Abby - Ms. Gerhard, “ Carol backpedals, “mentioned that you are the new Kindergarten teacher this school year.” She walks into the room without waiting for Therese to respond, and with each step she takes, Therese feels even more frozen in place.

In college, Therese had studied art history extensively; she couldn’t get her hands on enough textbooks and in depth analyses about centuries worth of styles and artistic movements. Classical Greek art, in particular, was Therese’s favorite to study, and she’d quickly become infatuated with the way the culture had portrayed the female body in the form of marble sculptures. Unfortunately, she’d never had the chance to travel to see such artworks in person, but Therese is fairly certain that she’s seeing the living, breathing equivalent right inside the walls of Forest Meadow Elementary.

Therese straightens her spine and shyly tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yes,” she responds softly.

With the tiniest hint of a smile, Carol leans against one of the empty desks and crosses her arms over her chest. She says nothing, but Therese can practically feel her staring.

Analyzing.

_Judging_.

If she could just think of something to say, something smart or funny or witty to impress, she might not feel so self-conscious on the receiving end of Carol Aird's stare. But improv isn’t exactly on Therese’s résumé. All she can muster is a few stuttered vowels before Carol interrupts with a chuckle.

“Well, I do look forward to seeing you around the halls of Forest Meadow. See you soon, Therese.” She says goodbye with a quick bow of her head. Her pencil skirt swishes softly against her pantyhose as she walks out the door, and Therese is left alone with the echoes of Carol’s high heels against the tile.

It isn’t until Carol is long gone that Therese finally notices that, despite having not given it, she’d been addressed by her first name.

 

**-X-X-X-X-**

 

When Therese returns home to her apartment later in the evening, she pulls out an old Strathmore pad from her art supplies along with a few worn brushes and a gently used set of watercolors. Since her unexpected meeting earlier in the day, a burst of creativity swirls around Therese’s head – creativity that she does not intend to let slip away. She fills a mason jar with some cool water from the faucet and sets up her supplies on the hardwood floor of her living room. Therese sits with her legs crisscrossed and lets the brush flow naturally, not thinking about lines or structure.

It isn’t long until the thick paper is decorated with swirling curves of deep pink and lilac. However, Therese can’t seem to replicate the shining and rich red of Carol Aird’s blouse. The image of it is clear in her mind, but the actual shade is difficult to name. Scarlet? Cherry? Apple? Therese stares at the palette of paint, but even with her expertise, the perfect match seems almost impossible to find.

‘ _Carol Aird Red_ ’ is the only way she can categorize it, and Therese determines that the only way she’ll be able to replicate it how she would like is to see more of it firsthand.

_If_ she can see it again firsthand.

In the hustle and bustle of moving to a new town, Therese has met countless people, many who have bounced out of her life as quickly as they bounced in. None of them have had a real lasting impression, but if the odd, butterfly-like feeling in her stomach is any indication, meeting Carol was not by chance.

Over the years, Therese has attended dozens of artist talks. Their processes have always fascinated her, and to hone her craft, she’d felt the only real way was to study the methods to their hypothetical madness.

_“When the right subject or theme comes along, and inspiration strikes you just so, it will all come naturally,”_ they’d advised. _“Do not fight it. Do not question it. Let it overwhelm you. Good art should be terrifying.”_

Therese looks down. The pink-ish hues now fade into a deeper red. It’s not quite there, not quite ‘ _Carol Aird Red_ ’, but it’s getting closer.

Therese sets the paintbrush down against the metal lid of the palette and cracks her neck. She’s suddenly aware of how long she’s been sitting in the same position with her upper body leaning slightly forward over the Strathmore pad. The muscles down her neck and upper arm ache. She stretches, long and slow, and groans loudly.

The chime of her cell phone forces Therese to take a much-needed break. She stands with a low grunt, the joints in her knees popping as she does so, and walks into the kitchen to the charger plugged into the corner of the room. There’s no voicemail or text message – nothing particularly new, Therese laments – so she determines she must have received an email. She opens the app with a tap of her thumb and scans through the array of emails she’s gotten since focusing on her artwork. There’s an Old Navy ad and a reminder from AT&T that her bill is due. Further down, there’s an email from jfreeman@fm-elementary.edu with the subject line of “OPEN HOUSE”.

Reluctantly, Therese opens it.

 

_Good evening, FME faculty and staff,_

_A reminder that the Forest Meadow Elementary open house will be Monday evening for new students and their parents before the first day of school. In the past, this has been a great way for us to open the line of communication and hopefully encourage parent-teacher dialogue through the school year._

_All faculty and staff are required to attend. Providing light refreshments in your classroom is encouraged. Please call or email me with any questions or concerns you may have._

_Have a great weekend, and let’s start the new year out with excitement and enthusiasm!_

**_Principal Jonathan Freeman_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile and inspire more :)
> 
> Stick with me, dear reader ;) Our favorite leading-lady will be making much more of an appearance in the next chapter...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters within two days is a huge rarity for me, but GOD, I can't help it. This pairing....

Therese fiddles with a silver tray of sliced fruit, reordering each piece in a nervous attempt to clear her mind and body of the anxiety bubbling around inside of her. Children are one thing – she feels as home with their innocence and wide-eyed sense of wonder about the world – but the prospect of greeting and mingling with an entire classroom of parents, all looking at her with a critical eye, absolutely terrifies her.

She wipes her sweaty palms on a napkin and lets out a slow, shaky breath.

A few chimes play over the intercom system in the ceiling of the classroom before Principal Freeman’s voice echoes loudly.

_“All faculty and staff, please report to the auditorium for a brief meeting before open house begins.”_

Therese grabs her sweater from the back of her desk chair and pulls it over her arms, the wine-colored fabric falling loosely around her waist. It’s warm outside, the summer sun blazing down even as the evening creeps in, but the air conditioning is blasting and, paired with her current nerves, Therese can’t help but shiver a little. She pulls her sweater close to her chest and walks out into the hallway toward the assembly.

When Therese arrives at the auditorium, she scans the room to see if she recognizes any familiar faces. Jonathan is on stage, fumbling with a microphone stand. In the far left corner, she sees Abby sitting in one of the greyish-blue fold out chairs with her arms crossed over her chest; she looks as excited as Therese feels about the entire evening. But no matter how much she searches, she doesn’t seem to find the one person she’s anticipated seeing.

With a sigh, Therese hides in the shadows and slumps into a seat as far back in the auditorium as she can. Jonathan begins his welcome speech, his voice booming through the room, but the words are lost on Therese. Squinting in the darkness, she continues to try and find Carol, but it quickly becomes evident that she’s simply not there. Therese hadn’t thought about the possibility that she, just maybe, isn’t a _teacher_ at all…

Lost in her own thoughts, Therese doesn’t even realize Jonathan has finished talking until her peers rise from their seats and make their way to the exits on either side of the room. She quietly shuffles back to her classroom and waits for people to arrive.

Within the first twenty minutes, she meets many parents, as well as some of her new students who came along begrudgingly. She greets each of them with a warm smile and a friendly hello, but by the end of the night, the fakeness of it all wears on Therese. By the time Marcus Gremson saunters into her classroom and introduces himself by getting _way_ too close for her comfort, Therese all but wants to scream.

“Are you into artwork?” Marcus asks, pointing toward the far left end of the classroom where Therese has pinned numerous prints and photographs, as well as a few paintings from her own collection. They’re mostly abstract, of various shapes and colors but no recognizable subject; she’d only put them up to encourage her students’ creativity and teach them that conforming to the “rules” isn’t always required to make something beautiful.

“Yes,” Therese responds. “I mean, I think _all_ subjects are important, but the arts are vital for early childhood developme-“

“I couldn’t disagree with you more,” Marcus grunts. “My son should focus on science and sports. Grow up to do what he’s supposed to do. Not draw pretty butterflies and glue sparkles on them.”

“If I may,” a voice interrupts, “I think the artwork Miss Belivet has here is absolutely stunning.”

Despite having only heard it once before, Therese could recognize the voice anywhere. She turns on her thick black heels to face Carol, who’s analyzing the canvas in front of her with sincere interest.

“The blocks of color are reminiscent of Matisse,” Carol notices, reaching out to run a red-painted fingernail over the dried paint, “but the actual composition is slightly more modern. There’s a wonderful mixture of methods here that a novice wouldn’t be able to blend so seamlessly.” She turns to face Therese.

There may be a dozen other people in the classroom with them, but to Therese, the rest of the world fades away. They’re close enough for the first time that Therese can see the color of Carol’s eyes – crystal, almost _electric_ blue; it’s a fitting description, she thinks, as they’ve sparked something in her blood that is hot and indescribable.

“Do you know the artist?” Carol asks, the corners of her mouth curled up into the slightest smile. Therese can’t help but stare at her lips, stained a similar shade as the blouse from a few days before – ‘ _Carol Aird Red_ ’. Tonight, however, she wears a navy blue dress with short sleeves and a hem that stops a few inches above the knee. A string of pearls rests around her neck and falls against her sternum; Therese wonders for a moment who exactly still wears pearls, but their milky white is a perfect contrast to the deep red across Carol’s lips.

“I’m the artist,” Therese confesses. She feigns confidence, raising her jaw slightly and breathing slowly and evenly. That is, until Carol takes a small step forward, inching just a bit closer to Therese.

Out of the corner of her eye, Therese swears she sees Marcus scowl before walking away.

“Well, Miss Belivet, you have some real talent,” Carol compliments. “I can say with total confidence that my daughter will be in good hands with you as her teacher.” She reaches out and touches Therese’s elbow softly, and the contact alone makes Therese want to run for the hills; she wants it and _fears_ it all the same.

With Carol close, Therese can faintly smell the scent of her perfume. It’s classic Elizabeth Arden: Red Door, flowery and sweet with the faintest tinge of lilac and honey. Working at the makeup department of Dillard’s as a teenager has made Therese a perfume connoisseur of sorts, and she finds Carol’s choice a perfect fit: regal, sophisticated, and above all else – _red_.

“Do you enjoy art, Mrs. Aird?” Therese eventually manages to ask.

Carol laughs, low and infectious. “ _Carol,_ please. I haven’t been _Mrs_. Aird in years.”

Therese is absolutely mortified by the little squeak that bubbles up her throat.

“I enjoy a lot of things,” Carol adds. The tone is light, borders on flirtatious.

But that certainly can’t be, Therese thinks, because there’s no way someone like her could appeal to someone like Carol.

“W-well, I certainly hope I live up to your expectations.” A beat. “As a-a teacher,” Therese stutters. “For your daughter. I hope I-“

“Have a wonderful evening, Miss Belivet,” Carol interrupts. She looks over at one of Therese’s paintings once more before pulling her car keys from the pocket of her purse. As quickly as she’s arrived, Carol is gone, lost in the crowds of the open house, and Therese is a shivering mess in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more.
> 
> My social media is a mess of fandoms, but come follow me and say hi if so inclined!
> 
> Tumblr: awomanontheverge  
> Twitter: @pattilupwned


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the open house goes by agonizingly slow. Therese tries to make small talk with her students and their parents, but her focus is almost completely derailed after her brief conversation with Carol.

The last parent leaves around 9:30PM. Absolutely exhausted, Therese wastes little time gathering her purse and other belongings to make her way out of Forest Meadow Elementary. The constant stream of visitors left little time for her to think about her encounter earlier in the evening, but now she has all the time in the world to replay their meeting over and over again in her head. And whether she likes it or not, that’s exactly what her mind does, analyzing every gesture and movement for even the smallest context clues.

Therese walks briskly down the dimly lit, winding hallways of Forest Meadow. It seems that most of her colleagues have left already, but as she reaches the far end of the hall, she notices the distinct shimmer of off-yellow incandescent lighting peeking through the half-open door of a classroom. Two voices cut through the low hum of the building’s air conditioning; Therese stops walking and holds her breath to listen.

“She’s incredibly talented.”  


“Is she?”

Therese tiptoes forward, peeking through the crack of the door as best she can. The conversation is soft, but Therese immediately recognizes one of the voices from just a few hours earlier; her heart practically flutters hearing it. Shifting on her heel to look at a different angle, Therese finally gets a glimpse of Carol, who’s sitting on top of one of the student’s desks with her left leg crossed over her right. The bottom of her deep blue dress is bunched up slightly at the thigh to reveal the slightest flash of skin, but Carol doesn’t seem to care, continuing her conversation with a laugh and an excited wave of her hand. Her guard is down in the comfort of a friend, but, to Therese’s amazement, Carol still looks as regal as ever.

“I swear,” the other voice in the room – Abby, Therese eventually recognizes – says with a sigh, “if one more parent tries to flirt with me to get their kid a good grade.”

Carol chuckles. “It’s a little early in the year for that, isn’t it?”

“Exactly.” Abby pauses. “I could say the same thing to you, dear.”

Carol mocks her offense with a gasp. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

They laugh together, lighthearted and playful. Carol leans forward and touches Abby’s elbow in a soft, friendly gesture, but the green-eyed monster unexpectedly rears its ugly head as Therese stands there watching. Her cheeks burn red and she feels her heart racing with jealousy. It’s absolutely ridiculous, Therese thinks, as she has absolutely no reason or right to feel even the _slightest_ pang of jealousy; they’ve only met twice, and very briefly at that. But there’s an undeniable spark that Therese just can’t ignore, regardless of how one-sided it may be.

The rosy hue of Therese’s cheeks creeps up her neck and behind her ears. She forces herself to turn away and practically runs out of the school and into the parking lot, where she jumps into her car and drives away without looking back.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Despite the day’s earlier excitement, Therese finds it nearly impossible to fall asleep. She takes a hot shower and tries some chamomile tea, but there’s a restlessness in her mind and body that she simply cannot shake. Frustrated, Therese leaves her bedroom and grabs some items from her collection of art supplies, as well as the unfinished canvas she had started only a few days earlier. Meetings with Carol seem to be a supreme source of artistic inspiration for Therese. While she can still remember all the details, she decides to paint, just long enough until she’s thoroughly exhausted.

The exact color red she’s been trying to replicate is clearer in her mind after the events of the open house. She adds a few strokes of red onto the canvas followed by a very light streak of black watercolor to darken it slightly. She isn’t 100% satisfied with the results, but it’s definitely closer than before. The soft curves and swirls of pink, purple and red begin to form a feminine, flower-like shape, but it’s _just_ abstract enough for her liking; Therese can’t help but wonder what Carol would think if she could see it, even in its unfinished state.

It’s almost 2am by the time she pries herself away from her work and into bed, knowing fully that the first day of school – a mere 4 ½ hours away – will be absolutely killer on almost no sleep. Therese considers it worth it in the pursuit of good art.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Therese is all smiles and assuring words as her new students walk nervously into her classroom. She spends the half hour before the start of the day consoling scared, sobbing children, as well as their equally terrified parents. She ushers them gently into their seats and shows them the name tags taped to their desks, written in all caps in her perfectly neat handwriting; Therese knows that they can’t even _read_ them, but the excitement in their eyes is well worth the hours she spent making them and the Carpal Tunnel she basically gave herself doing so.

She’s in the midst of writing her name on the chalkboard when a little girl with straight brown hair and eyes that sparkle walks into the room. She shuffles in as only children do, the bottom of her bright pink dress swishing as she does so.

Therese smiles warmly at her. She’s about to welcome her to the class when Carol comes in behind her carrying a small, royal purple backpack and a matching lunchbox.

“Rindy, dear, don’t forget your things.”

Therese sets the chalk down in her hand shakily and wipes the white residue from her palms on the side of her dress.

With a frustrated sigh, Rindy grabs the items from Carol’s hands, then rushes into the classroom to greet Therese with an adorable, slightly toothless smile. “Good morning, Miss Therese.”

Carol saunters over slowly, a sultry grin on her face. She stops a few inches short of Therese, then reaches into her purse to pull out a gift of sorts: a large, shining, Red Delicious apple.

Red. _Carol Aird Red_.

“Happy first day, Miss Belivet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more! :)


	5. Chapter 5

The beginning half of the first day of school is incredibly busy – something Therese is eternally grateful for. It leaves little time for her to focus on the apple sitting on the corner of her desk – and, more importantly, the giver of said apple.

But the distraction is short lived when the children break for lunch, filing nervously into the cafeteria for the first time. When they are safely seated at their tables, Therese leaves them under the care of the cafeteria aide and makes her own way to the teacher’s lounge.

When she enters the slightly crowded room, Therese immediately understands the fear her students must be feeling – guppies amongst a sea of sharks. She searches around for a familiar face, but soon realizes that she hasn’t really _interacted_ with much of anyone up until this point, and the likelihood of anyone recognizing her from the brief staff meetings they’ve had thus far is slim.

Therese is used to being the outsider, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

With the time remaining in her lunch hour dwindling, Therese grabs her brown-bagged lunch from the shared refrigerator and sits down at an empty table in the far right corner of the room. She arranges her sandwich, grapes, and pretzels in front of her, along with a raspberry-flavored can of sparkling water. The can opens with a loud fizz, and Therese is mid-gulp when she recognizes Abby across the room, eating alone in a similar fashion as herself. Abby appears engrossed in a book, mindlessly taking a bite of a salad every so often but never looking away from the print on the table. Despite being alone, she looks composed and regal; Therese can’t help but feel slightly jealous of her confidence.

“You’re the new Kindergarten teacher, right?”

Therese turns her head and blinks up at a tall woman with long blonde hair, green eyes and _way_ too much makeup for her tastes. Therese guesses she’s in her early thirties, experienced but not yet hardened by the school system – or possibly just blind enough not to recognize any problems. Realizing she’s staring, Therese responds with a nod.

“Erin Smithson, third grade teacher.” She reaches out for a handshake that Therese returns politely. Before Therese has much of a chance to say anything, Erin sits down next to her. “I’m sort of the unofficial head of all the staff here at Forest Meadow.”

Therese wants to respond with a dry remark, but decides against it.

“Are you planning on getting involved with any of the organizations here?” Erin asks between bites of a chicken salad.

“Oh, I…I hadn’t really thought about it much, to be honest.” Therese takes a small, polite bite of her sandwich, chewing as softly as she can.

“Well we always have plenty of room in the PTA. I’d encourage you to join us, it’s always a great way to meet other teachers and parents and understand the issues affecting the entire community.” Erin sips from a glass of water, then continues. “We can always use help in the different clubs too. There’s mock trial, dance, theater, art and photography, student council-“

Therese’s head snaps up. “Art?”

“Mmm. Mhm.” Erin nods. “It’s fallen to the wayside a bit in the last few years, if I’m being honest, but if you’d have an interest in overseeing it, I can certainly put in a good word…”

Therese can’t fight the smile that spreads across her face. “That would be…. _very_ kind. I’d certainly be interested in helping out where I can.”

“Great!” Erin exclaims. “We can discuss it at the next PTA meeting. It will be the first one of the year, and…”

Erin continues on about topics and school issues that are of no interest to Therese, and soon she finds her mind – and eyes – wandering back over to Abby, who’s still focused on her thick paperback book with maroon binding and crisp white pages. Therese wants to go over and talk to her, befriend her – and secretly – _selfishly_ \- Carol - but Erin appears to read her mind, glancing over at Abby, then at Therese.

“I wouldn’t get caught up in all of _that_ if I were you,” Erin warns with a wave of a hand, her voice low.

Therese raises her eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“Abby Gerhard. She’s…” Erin clucks her tongue. “I would just stay away from her and her crowd.”

Therese clears her throat. “Her _crowd_? I’m not sure I follow…”

Erin stands from the table and grabs her empty plate and glass. “See you at the PTA meeting, ok?” She gives Therese a large, fake smile and turns on her heels, her long blonde hair swishing across her shoulders as she moves across the lounge and out into the hallway.

Despite the warning, Therese can’t help but stare across the room, more curious than ever about Abby and her “crowd”.

**-X-X-X-X-**

When 3:00pm nears, excitement flutters in Therese’s chest at the prospect of seeing Carol again. Her hands shake as she helps her students gather their backpacks and lunch boxes and line up carefully at the classroom door for their parents to arrive for pickup. On autopilot, Therese smiles and recounts the day to various parents, praising each child’s behavior and bravery on the first day, but she’s distracted, waiting for a certain blonde to arrive.

But as each boy and girl make their way home in their parents’ arms, one student sits politely in her seat with her purple lunchbox, swinging her legs back and forth to the rhythm of the ticking clock.

Therese is about to look for Rindy’s emergency contact number when Carol comes rushing into the classroom, disheveled with her purse in her hand and her hair slightly mussed. She gasps for breath as she runs over to Rindy and falls to her knees, scooping her up in her arms. “I’m so sorry,” Carol apologizes to her daughter, then Therese.

Therese is taken aback by Carol’s demeanor, so frazzled and shaken compared to the her usual cool, confident air. Therese reaches out and gently touches Carol’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Are you alright, Mrs. Aird?”

“Oh yes…” Carol stands slowly. “Today has been…quite a day. I lost track of time. I’m so sorry, darling.” She leans down and kisses the top of Rindy’s head.

“It’s ok mama,” Rindy assures with a grin.

“Next time my schedule gets crazy like this, I promise Nanny will be here to pick you up right at 3,” Carol informs Rindy while also clueing Therese in to the additional pickup arrangement. Therese can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed with the reality that she may not get to see Carol as often as she had hoped; the pleasant surprise of Carol’s place in her classroom appears to be but a fleeting moment.

“Can we get some ice cream?” Rindy asks innocently, changing the subject in the way only children can.

Therese and Carol laugh simultaneously. Then Carol smiles at Therese, and when their eyes lock, a spark crackles between them. Typical Therese would look away shyly, but she’s completely enamored. It feels like something out of a romantic comedy, where the rest of the world seems to disappear and the music swells. She almost whimpers with disappointment when Carol clears her throat and looks away toward the young girl tucked against her side.

“Are you ready to go, Rindy?”

Without having to ask twice, Rindy grabs her lunchbox and bounces out of the classroom.

“Thank you so much for staying with her, Miss Belivet. What a terrible first impression I’ve made, haven’t I?” Carol laughs nervously.

Therese dismisses her with a wave of her hand. “It’s really no problem at all. And please, call me Therese.” She feels a nervous lump in the middle of her throat as she says it, wondering if it comes off too bold. Carol’s certainly made an impression, but the way Therese would describe it is the polar opposite of _terrible_.

“Well, _Therese_ ,” Carol says, and _god_ , coming from her lips, it’s like nothing Therese has ever heard or experienced before. “I apologize once again for my tardiness. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Carol takes a step forward, and the scent of her perfume – distinct and flowery - practically sends shockwaves into Therese’s _soul_.

“Ooh, um…” Therese clears her throat.

“Moooooom,” Rindy calls from down the hall, “come ooooon!!”

“Yes darling!” Carol responds. She shifts on her heels and pulls the strap of her purse up onto her shoulder.

Therese wants to say something else, wants to find an excuse to see Carol one-on-one again and for a longer period of time, but she’s already mustered all the courage she has today. She crosses her arms over her chest and scratches her elbow nervously.

“Have a wonderful evening, Therese.”

Despite the different variations of ‘goodbye’ at the tip of her tongue, Therese simply responds with a crooked smile and a small bow of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)
> 
> What do you think lies ahead?! And what would you like to see? Talk to me if so inclined, and thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

When Therese arrives home for the night, she tosses her bag onto the floor and shuffles into her tiny kitchen apartment. Since she’s moved to the city, her nights have been depressingly routine – make a tv dinner, watch an hour or so of Food Network, peruse social media, then go to bed. But the last few days have reintroduced an item on her checklist – _create_. It’s been quite some time since the creativity bug last bit Therese, but Carol Aird’s presence in her life has caused an unexpected summer swarm.

With half a Pop Tart in her mouth, Therese dips her paintbrush into a mason jar of water, then swipes the tip across her palette into a burgundy red watercolor. She runs the brush along the edges of the flower-like shape she’d previously started, which has begun to evolve from an abstract form to the slightly more defined outline of a woman’s blouse. With long strokes of dark red, she creates the creases and crevices until the faintest outline of a torso appears; it’s a floating figure now, but Therese wants to get it just right while the color and shape of the blouse are still clear in her mind.

The flowing, flowery-nature of the back of the shirt comes naturally to her, but when she’s left with the less-abstract forms of the arms, Therese struggles. She doubts every stroke she tries to make. Eventually, she sets the paintbrush down and stretches out on the floor with a loud groan. The muscles in her arms and shoulders tingle as she stretches, long and slow.

Therese feels strangely content spread across the hardwood, staring up at the old, uneven caulking on the ceiling. It feels oddly reminiscent of her college days in her dorm, when her roommate went out on her fourth date of the week while Therese mounted various photographs for her peer review; despite being warned several times not to spray inside the dorm, the misty, sticky chemicals would fill the room and leave Therese in a dizzy haze on the floor, gazing up at the dirty, cracked ceiling of the freshman quad with a lopsided smile on her face.

Now, it’s the thought of Carol that makes her head spin.

**-X-X-X-X-**

The next morning, Therese arrives at Forest Meadow an hour early to prepare for the day’s lessons. She’d expected to arrange her lesson plan the night before, but her impromptu painting session derailed any schedule she’d intended to follow. With her classroom empty, Therese gathers several stacks of construction paper and various art supplies – safety scissors, glue sticks, markers and crayons - and sets them up across several tiny desks. She squeezes into one of the middle seats and puts together craft packets in a makeshift assembly line.

Therese is halfway through preparing her lesson when two people walk into her classroom. She glances up at the old-style clock on the wall, worried she’s lost track of time, but there’s still half an hour before classes begin. “Good morning?” she greets, her voice raised slightly in a question. Therese twists in the small seat to get a better look at her visitors.

“Good morning, Miss Therese,” a voice says cheerfully, and as the girl steps further into the classroom and under the overhead light, Therese immediately recognizes her.

“Why good morning, Rindy. You’re a little early.” Therese smiles sweetly.

“Daddy has to go to work early today.” Rindy shuffles back and forth on her bright pink tennis shoes.

The smile on Therese’s face instantly fades as she hears Rindy’s words. She looks over at her other visitor – a middle-aged male of medium build with dark brown hair. He’s standing at the doorway on his cell phone, barking at whoever is on the receiving end of the call, and despite the fact that she hasn’t even spoken to him, Therese instantly feels uneasy. In her ignorance, Therese hadn’t expected to ever meet Rindy’s father; in fact, she wasn’t even sure he was still in the picture.

Less than a minute later, Mr. Aird ends his conversation and tosses his smartphone into his suit pocket with a huff.

“Good morning, Mr. Aird.” Therese takes a few steps forward and reaches her hand out for a polite handshake that Mr. Aird promptly ignores. “My name is Therese Beliv-“

“Rindy, your sitter will be here this afternoon to pick you up. Be a good girl.” He ruffles his daughter’s hair. Mr. Aird – Therese doesn’t even know his _name_ \- is gone as quickly as he came, and the odd interaction leaves her slightly dumbfounded. Rindy, however, doesn’t seem the slightest bit disturbed, and Therese immediately shifts her focus to the sweet girl standing beside her.

“Would you like to help me with something?”

Rindy’s eyes light up. She nods furiously.

“Do you think you can put one of these” – Therese points to the craft supplies she’s put together – “on each desk?”

“Yes!” Rindy practically bounces with excitement as she grabs the first set and daintily sets it in the center of a nearby desk.

“Where is your mom today?” Therese asks smoothly.

Rindy shrugs. “Dunno.”

Therese frowns, but doesn’t have the opportunity to ask anything before Rindy adds, “Sometimes I spend the night with Mommy, and sometimes I spend the night with Daddy. Last night was with Daddy.” Rindy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Sometimes I don’t like staying with Daddy.”

Therese swallows. Based on the 5-minute interaction she’s had with the man, Therese isn’t particularly surprised by Rindy’s confession. Truthfully, she’d take any chance she could get to be with Carol, but she knows her reasons are selfishly her own. Clearing her throat, Therese responds. “I’m sure your Daddy loves you very much.”

“Do you like unicorns?” Rindy asks. It’s so random and innocent that Therese can’t help but chuckle.

“Of course I do.”

“Mommy says that if I’m really good at school, that I might get to meet a real unicorn!” Rindy looks at Therese, wide-eyed and grinning toothlessly.

Therese lets out a quick, breathy laugh. “Well then, you’ll want to stay on your best behavior no matter what, right?” She gives Rindy’s shoulder a little squeeze.

Suddenly, Rindy’s demeanor changes. She sinks into her assigned seat, finished with her task, and grumbles. “Daddy says that unicorns aren’t real. He said that I shouldn’t think about made up things.” Rindy turns to Therese and blinks up at her with wide, slightly glassy eyes. “Do you think unicorns are real?”

In that moment, Therese wants nothing more than to scoop Rindy up n her arms and surround her with all the love and assurance she deserves. She knows, however, that there’s a fine line she has to walk as a teacher, so she tries to convince Rindy the best way she can. “I think that you can believe in anything you want to believe,” Therese assures. “Things can exist in all sorts of forms. And if you think unicorns are real, then so be it.” Therese smiles. “Can you draw a unicorn for me?” She pulls a tan-colored piece of construction paper from her craft pile along with a pack of markers and hands them to Rindy.

With that, Rindy lights up once again, excitedly scribbling a scene with a large, bright purple unicorn in the center. There are two women on either side, one dark-haired in a navy blue shirt and a pair of black slacks and modest heels; it doesn’t take much more than a downward glance at her own clothing for Therese to determine it’s her.

On the other side, in her signature color, is her mother – _Carol_ – with sun-yellow curls and a black purse on her arm. Rindy carefully draws a string of pearls around her mother’s neck and a pair of charcoal sunglasses perched on the top of her head. It’s the small details that Therese admires, the talent of the 6-year-old already evident. Therese can’t wait to teach her more, but beyond that, she can’t help but notice the glaring omission of Mr. Aird; the possible meanings are far from lost on her, and they cloud Therese’s mind for the rest of the school day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More one-on-one interaction with our favorite ladies in the next chapter ;) 
> 
> I love hearing from you all, so leave a comment if you feel up to it, and - as always - thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

As Mr. Aird said, Rindy’s sitter picks her up at the end of the school day. She’s a young, soft spoken girl who Rindy greets warmly, and Therese can’t help but think that in another life, in another career, that might be her. She kindly bids the two farewell and wishes Rindy a good night, almost ashamed of her disappointment that she’s missed out on seeing Carol for a second time.

With all her students gone by 3:30, Therese sinks into her desk chair and logs into her very old, very _clunky_ work computer. It takes several minutes just for piece of junk to boot up; she’s about to give up trying when it finally springs to life with the Windows welcome screen. “About damned time,” Therese mutters under her breath, and the irony of half-swearing inside her Kindergarten classroom makes her chuckle.

After a few more minutes of waiting, a string of emails fill her mailbox while a soft chime plays out of the computer’s speakers. Most of it is junk, but one marked as high priority from Erin Smithson grabs Therese’s attention. She double clicks on the subject line with the cursor and waits for the email to load.

_Friends and Faculty,_

_A reminder that tonight is the first PTA meeting of the year. As always, we encourage all faculty to attend. Your participation sets the stage for the months ahead. Whether it’s chaperoning dances, heading organizations, or leading fundraisers, Forest Meadow simply cannot function without the support of our staff, our parents and our students._

_Hope to see you soon,_

_Erin Smithson_

**-X-X-X-X-**

It’s about 6:45 when Therese arrives back at the school. Having completely forgotten about the meeting until Erin’s email, she’d run out to pick up an oh-so-healthy fast food meal, then rushed to make sure she was there for the discussion with some time to spare. She pops a breath mint in her mouth – suddenly self-conscious about the greasy burger she’d eaten less than an hour earlier – and sits down in the middle of the room amongst the mixed crowd of students and parents. 

She watches with embarrassing jealousy as new attendees walk into the room and immediately gravitate toward their “groups”, welcoming each other with waves and hugs and smiles. Everyone seems to have their perfect place, but Therese feels absolutely lost in the crowd. Straining her neck, she tries to find a familiar face, but even Erin ignores her from her seat at the very front of the room. Eventually, Therese resorts to her go-to shield in the form of her cell phone, pulling it carefully from its place in her purse and tapping open her Twitter feed; she barely pays attention to the words on the tiny screen, but it at least makes her appear less pathetic than she feels.

The meeting starts promptly at 7pm. Erin welcomes everyone with a sickly-sweet smile, but the phony attitude seems lost on her fellow teachers, who hang on to every word Erin says. Therese isn’t entirely sure whether they’re _truly_ interested, or whether they’re more concerned about what might happen if they _don’t_ appear strung along like pearls.

In the first hour, they discuss fundraising techniques, school lunch schedules, and the first dance of the year, which the PTA decides will be “Dancing with the Stars” themed. It almost makes Therese snort in her seat; what middle schooler, she wonders, watches Dancing with the Stars? Nevertheless, when Erin asks for volunteers to chaperone the event, Therese politely raises her hand, drinking the proverbial Kool-aid and becoming – disturbingly – one of _them_.

“Why don’t we take a fifteen-minute break?” Erin suggests at the halfway point. “There’s coffee and pretzels in back!”

Like an assembly line, everyone stands and shuffles their way toward the corner of the room. Therese stands slowly from her seat and looks over at the table filled with finger-foods, then glances over to the exit. She needs an escape, even for fifteen minutes. Her stomach grumbles from the greasiness of her dinner, so forgoing snacks seems like a smart idea anyway.

For the first time in weeks, the humid summer air breaks. The difference between the air-conditioned building and the temperature outside is actually comfortable, even a little chilly. Therese crosses her arms over her chest and inhales slowly, the air fresh and strangely invigorating.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The voice, instantly familiar to Therese, still makes her jump. She grasps her chest and breathes shakily.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Therese turns to Carol. With the sun mostly set, the motion sensor lights outside of the school shine and cast Carol under a soft glow. The wispy haziness of smoke is prominent inside the ray of light; Therese glances down to notice the thin, white cigarette between long fingers with red-painted nails. She watches entranced as Carol brings her hand up to her mouth and inhales slowly, holding the smoke in her lungs for a minute before blowing it out in a quick stream. It doesn’t smell like the smoke Therese is used to – it’s sweeter, less abrasive – and she wonders what might be mixed with the tobacco.

“Want one?” Carol asks, noticing the way Therese is staring.

She knows she should say no, but the stress of the last few days paired with the slightest bit of peer pressure she’s feeling make the ‘ _yes_ ’ that comes out of Therese’s mouth flow quickly and easily.

Carol smiles, then digs the box of cigarettes from her purse. She pulls one out and hands it over to Therese, their fingertips brushing in the exchange.

Therese holds the cigarette between her middle and index fingers and shields it with her other hand as Carol presses the end of her lighter, a small flame flickering at the edge. Therese leans in, inching the edge of it forward, and inhales as the flame touches the end of the paper. It’s been awhile since she’s smoked, and the first puff burns her lungs, but she keeps her composure, unwilling to look like a fool in front of the gorgeous woman beside her. With the cigarette lit, they both take a step back and lean against the brick wall of the school.

“How are you enjoying the Forest Meadow PTA?” Carol teases.

Therese laughs, a little puff of smoke forming in front of her face as she does so. “Oh it’s…..it’s _something_.”

Carol joins her in laughing. “That is certainly a polite way to describe it.” She sighs. “Thank goodness they called for a break. I couldn’t stand another moment in there.”

“I thought I might be the only one,” Therese admits. She turns to Carol and smiles, and she’s not sure whether it’s the cigarette smoke or the way Carol is looking at her, but her cheeks and ears suddenly burn. “They’re all so…. _plastic_. Mindless sheep. I don’t really feel like I fit in with anyone here,” she admits in her haze.

“Have they pressured you into joining any organizations yet?” Carol asks, making small talk.

Therese nods. She takes a drag of her cigarette before responding. “Erin mentioned something about an art club that’s kinda fallen by the wayside. I’m thinking of helping out with that and trying to resurrect it.” She stands up straighter. “If they get it all approved and can find the funding, that is.”

Carol’s eyebrows raise, but she says nothing.

“I think that woman has it out for me already anyway, so I doubt it will even happen.” Therese shrugs.

“Well, Therese, I think you are a _lovely_ girl.” Carol flicks the end of her cigarette, the ash fluttering down and across the parking lot with the wind. “Rindy speaks very fondly of you.” Carol taps the heel of her shoe on the cement, a rhythmic, nervous click. “Perhaps we could have lunch sometime?” she suggests. “I can show you around the parts of New York that aren’t quite so…. _plastic_.” Carol winks.

The back of Therese’s knees suddenly feel weak. She wants to ask the intention, whether it’s a casual outing or a _date_ , but all she can do is stutter awkwardly. “I-I would….” She coughs. “I would love that.”

Carol tosses the butt of her cigarette down and puts it out with the top of her shoe. A single sliver of smoke rises from the ground up to their faces. It bends with the soft breeze and wraps around the curve of Carol’s neck and cheek, casting an ashy shadow against her smooth, pale skin. The breath practically stops short in Therese’s lungs as Carol bites her bottom lip, one side of her mouth curled up in a slight smile. “We should probably get back before they catch us and give us detention,” Carol teases, pointing her thumb toward the door.

“O-oh. Yeah. Right.” Therese tosses her cigarette across the way.

“See you inside?” Carol steps away from the wall and saunters slowly back to the entrance, her heels echoing in the silence of the parking lot.

Therese nods slowly. When Carol disappears into the school, Therese leans her head back against the brick and looks up into the sky - a collection of shades, dark oranges and reds mixed with the prominent blues and purples of night. It’s a stunning sight, but when she closes her eyes and sees the faint outline of Carol in her red blouse, she determines there is nothing more beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...what is Carol up to? ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and engaged. I love hearing from you all. Leave a comment if you feel so inclined - more soon! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update?! Wha?!
> 
> :)

The rest of the PTA meeting drags on insufferably. Just when Therese is certain she’s going to die from boredom, Erin calls the meeting to a close. Although she’s itching to interact more with Carol, Therese sneaks out the back of the school to her car. Beneath the darkness, she walks across the parking lot to her maroon Ford Fusion and sinks into the driver’s seat, where she lets out the stress and excitement of the day with a long, deliberate sigh. Her shoulders sink into the polyester.

She’d gone to the PTA meeting with the intent of fitting into the crowd, but Therese realizes she’s left with the desire to do anything _but_. 

 

**-X-X-X-X-**

 

Despite the fact that she’s barely started on the details of her painting, Therese decides to capitalize on the unexpected creativity Carol’s inspired. She grabs a sketchpad, pencil, eraser and some pastels and curls up in the corner of the sofa, her back against the armrest. Any trace of “painter’s block” she may have been experiencing is now nonexistent, and before long, the general shape of soft, feminine lips appears in the center of the crisp paper resting against Therese’s knees. It takes a few tries before she’s truly satisfied with the outline – an artist’s hardest critic is herself – but when she moves on to shading, Therese finds less resistance between her mind and her hand.

Therese recalls the color of Carol’s lipstick with ease, bright against the white paper of her cigarette. A ruby red pastel with the tiniest bit of burgundy seems to replicate the design engrained in Therese’s memory. She brushes her index and middle fingers across the pastel, blending them together in spots to shade and shadow. And as the deep red pigment stains her hands, Therese can’t help but wonder what Carol’s lips would feel like against her own.

 

**-X-X-X-X-**

 

Thursday at Forest Meadow is uneventful. Disappointingly, it’s Mr. Aird that picks Rindy up after school. He says nothing to Therese as he enters and says nothing to his daughter as they leave. As a teacher – hell, as a _decent human bein_ g – Therese finds the behavior distressing, but nevertheless says goodbye to her favorite student with a quick wave and a smile.

As a child, she’d always wondered whether teachers anticipated the weekend as much as the students did. Now, as Friday comes and the week creeps closer to the finish line, Therese absolutely has her answer. In fact, she’s willing to sell her soul for a large coffee and a few days of sleep and relaxation.

Therese arrives at the elementary Friday morning slightly earlier than usual. She plans to show an educational video about wildlife, and with televisions at a premium – there’s two very old and very _heavy_ boxed sets that travel from classroom to classroom on a cart – Therese knows that her chances of getting one for the day are slim without a head start.

“Happy Friday!” April – the school’s lead secretary - greets as Therese enters the front office.

“Good morning,” Therese replies politely, her voice barely above a whisper. Following her usual routine, she walks over to her mailbox and checks to see if anything important has been left for her overnight. Typically, it’s only a school-wide bulletin or a lunch duty reminder, but much to Therese’s surprise, a single white envelope sits in the center of her mailbox. Her name is written on the front of it in crisp, flowing cursive. Just the sight of it makes her smile, excitement rushing through her like a child receiving a letter from Santa.

As Therese is about to pick the note up, the scent of a particular Elizabeth Arden perfume hits her hard, sweet and intoxicating. She turns slowly, just a bit, trying to keep calm despite the fluttering, nervous beat in her chest and stomach. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she immediately recognizes Carol with only the slightest glance. She’s finely dressed – as if she’d ever be anything _else_ , Therese determines – and her blonde wavy hair is looser than Therese has seen them before. Carol starts a conversation with one of the younger secretaries that Therese unashamedly eavesdrops on; she makes out very little of it, but the mere sound of Carol’s voice leaves her almost breathless.

Therese quietly picks up the envelope and runs her index finger beneath the seal. Carefully, she pulls out the piece of paper inside. With slightly shaky hands, she reads the note, written in the same perfect cursive as the name on the envelope.

 

_Ms. Belivet,_

_I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation last night. It would bring me great pleasure to welcome you to the city. Perhaps you would like to join me for lunch tomorrow afternoon? There’s a great café on Jackson that I adore; I hope, if you’ll join me, that you will as well._

_718-555-1295_

**_Carol_ **

****

Therese isn’t sure how to react. She feels like a child again, passed a note from her crush in class and asked to check ‘ _yes_ ’ or ‘ _no_ ’. There’s something unique and romantic about the fact that Carol had taken the time to write out a _letter_ to her; she could have just approached her at the end of a school day, but _this_ …Therese feels a blush rising up her neck and cheeks.

Turning on her heels, she sees Carol, who pulls the strap of her purse up higher onto her shoulder and makes her way toward the office door. She stops a few beats before the exit and smiles in Therese’s direction; it’s small, a bit coy, maybe even flirtatious, but a smile nevertheless.

By the time Therese has mustered up the courage to say something – _do_ something – Carol is gone. Therese’s hands shake as she digs into her purse and pulls out her cell phone to add the number – _Carol’s_ number – into her list of contacts.

“Whatcha got there?” Erin asks as she steps toward the joint mailboxes Therese still stands in front of.

“Oh, I.” Therese shoves the note into her pocket. “It’s nothing.”

Erin responds with a quick scoff.

“I came to the PTA meeting last night,” Therese says, trying to be polite and make awkward conversation with her noisy coworker.

“Mm. Yes, I saw.” Erin’s frowning, and Therese wonders whether it’s because of something she’s done, or whether Erin Smithson just has a _killer_ resting bitch face. “How long have you been friends with Carol Aird?”

Therese is slightly taken aback by the question. “I’m sorry?”

“Carol Aird. How do you know her?”

“I don’t.” Therese looks away at the off-white walls of the office. “Not well anyway,” she backpedals. “I’ve only spoken to her a few times. I-why does it even matter? Do you know her?”

Erin smiles. “I spoke to some of the board members,” she explains, changing the subject. “I’m not sure whether the request to resurrect the arts will exactly be the popular vote right now.”

It’s Therese’s turn to frown. “I see.”

“I’ll let you know how the vote goes.”

Therese reaches for Erin’s arm as she turns to leave. “Doesn’t the vote have to be in a public forum? I thought that was the whole point of…”

“ _Right_ ,” Erin says sharply.

“Right,” Therese parrots, using the same snarky, sharp tone.

“Have a _great_ weekend, Therese.” Erin’s voice is syrupy sweet, almost sing-songy.  

Therese swears she sees one of the secretaries roll her eyes as Erin leaves the office.

Frustrated by Erin’s odd- and frankly _unwarranted_ \- display of hostility, Therese grabs her cell phone and taps on Carol’s name in her contacts list. The anger she’s feeling trumps her nervousness, and without any hesitation, she taps out a message in response to the slightly-crumpled letter in her pocket.

_Carol – lunch sounds great. Tell me when and where and I’ll be there._

_**T.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is Erin up to?! And how will their lunch date go? Oh the possibilities....
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. The next chapter is not far behind this time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW.
> 
> I KNOW.
> 
> It's been forever, and this chapter is short because I'm trying to get back into the groove of things. Give the writer some love if this still seems to have any worth whatsoever! :)

It’s a quarter past noon when Therese pulls into the parking lot of _La Fleur_. Unfamiliar with the neighborhood, she’d left the venue choice to Carol, trusting her expertise. After searching the address, she’d put her faith – and the fate of her relationship with Carol – in the hands of the Google Maps app on her phone, blindly following the directions into the city and eventually to the chique French café at the corner of 52 nd and Jackson. Therese had expected the drive to take significantly longer, but now, with 45 minutes to spare, she grabs a book from the backseat of her car, throws it into her bag, and decides to acclimate herself while she waits for her lunch date.

The smell of fresh bakery and coffee teases Therese as she walks through the front door. A cheery red-headed teenager greets her from behind the cash register. “Can I help you with something?”

Therese contemplates. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast, but with her luck, Carol will arrive while she’s chipmunk cheeked with half a banana nut muffin stuffed in her face. “I’ll just have a small cup of coffee with French vanilla soy milk, please.” She pulls a five-dollar bill from her wallet and hands it to the cashier.

“If you have a seat, someone will bring it over to you shortly,” the girl instructs.

Therese offers a subtle nod. She looks around to determine the best seat not just for herself, but Carol as well. Ultimately, she decides on a table for two in the corner next to a wall-length window, where she can alternate between reading and people watching while she waits.

The vibe of the café is young and modern, with patrons tapping away on their laptops and tablets, and it only makes Therese feel more awkward when she pulls a paperback book with a slightly crumpled cover from the depths of her handbag. She brushes some dust and crumbs from it and finds her place, bookmarked with a grocery receipt she’d hastily grabbed the last time she’d read. 

Therese settles back in her seat and begins to read. The tapping and elevator-like music of the café slowly drown out around her, focusing on the small print in her hands.

_"There was a lot they didn’t tell you about death, she had discovered, and one of the biggies was how long it took the ones you loved most to die in your heart."_

“Stephen King, hmm?”

The intruding voice barely breaks through Therese’s unobservant bubble. “Mmm?” Her eyes don’t move, assuming it’s just the waitress with her coffee order.

“I’ll admit, I hadn’t pegged you as a horror fan.”

At that, Therese finally looks up slowly. Her eyes move up from the paperback to the guest across the table who is _definitely_ not her waitress.

“ _Carol,_ “ Therese musters in her embarrassment, tossing her book hastily into her bag without bookmarking her place - something she’ll curse herself over later when she has to spend 15 minutes just to find where she left off. But all she can focus on now is the woman across from her, smiling – all blood red lips and perfectly white teeth that Crest themselves would be envious of.

“Hello, Therese.” Carol slides her black, thin-strapped purse from her shoulder and rests it on the back of the chair in front of her. When she sits a few seconds later, it’s with perfect posture; Therese can practically hear each vertebrae in her own back crack as she self-consciously mimics her. “I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the place.”

“Oh, n-not at all. Google Maps to the rescue,” Therese jokes.

“I’m not late, am I?” Carol looks down at her wrist to the silver watch delicately clasped there. Therese is immediately drawn to it – as she is all things Carol - sleek and modern but classy. If asked, it’s exactly the way she’d describe Carol.

“I’m perpetually early,” Therese confesses. “Gives me a chance to get acclimated. Get a first impression of places.” They lock eyes. “ _People._ ”

Carol arches an eyebrow. “So tell me - what’s your first impression?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 bonus points to the reader who comments with what Stephen King book Therese was reading ;) Comments inspire more and fuel the writing flame! Thank you as always for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

“Small coffee with French vanilla soy?”

Therese turns toward the waitress, startled but thankful for the interruption from Carol’s coy question. “Yes,” Therese raises her index finger, “that would be mine.”

“Can I get you anything, ma’am?”

“I’ll just have a coffee with cream and two sugars, please.”

As if her order would be anything else, Therese wonders. She wraps one hand around her cup and sips slowly, feeling a bit immature with her millennial-themed drink when compared with Carol’s sophisticated choice.

“So, Therese,” Carol begins, her voice somewhat hushed. She rests her elbows on the table and leans forward.

Therese holds her breath as she waits for Carol to continue. In her anxiousness, she impulsively taps her fingertips against the porcelain of her coffee cup, unaware of anything more than her lunch date’s intense, smoky stare. That is, until Carol leans forward and softly rests a hand over hers, silencing the faint tapping.

“So nervous,” Carol teases with a pat on the back of Therese’s hand.

“I’m not nervous,” Therese lies.

It’s painfully obvious Carol sees right through her bullshit, but she changes the subject nevertheless. Therese’s eyes follow Carol’s fingertips as they move from the back of her hand to the silver charm bracelet on her arm. “How lovely,” Carol compliments. “Did you make this? I know you are quite the _artiste_.”

Therese blushes. “Oh….no, no. This was given to me.”

Carol’s demeanor stiffens slightly, and Therese senses the slightest bit of jealousy in her reaction. “My old college roommate,” Therese explains. “She gave it to me as a gift before we graduated. I think she made it in one of her final art electives.”

“It’s beautiful.” Carol runs her finger across the charms, which chime softly. She looks up and adds, “You must mean a lot to her to be given such a lovely gift.”

“At one point, maybe. We kind of…” A sip of coffee gives Therese a moment to find her words. “I dunno, we grew apart, I guess.” She expects Carol to say something in response, but there’s only silence and a stare that’s difficult to read. It’s warm and kind, but for reasons Therese can’t explain, she still feels oddly pressured to blurt out her whole life’s story. “I went to school in a small town in Ohio. Double majoring in photography and traditional art. I’d planned to work for a gallery or a big-time news publication. I did internships and everything. She even helped me land some of them. But…”

Despite her cool composure, Carol’s hanging on every one of Therese’s words, appearing desperate for even the tiniest nugget of backstory; even in her naivety, Therese recognizes it. Still, she’s not used to being the center of attention to anyone older than six years old – certainly not someone like Carol. In her nervousness, she struggles to find the right words to explain the turn of events that led to her time at Forest Meadow Elementary. Instead, she retreats to her drink again, taking a long, slow sip and waiting for the subject to change to something a bit more comfortable.

Thankfully, Carol picks up on the context clues. “Well, I am glad to have you here,” she assures with a wink. “Rindy’s never seemed happier. She’s quite enamored with you, actually. Tells me every night about what ‘ _Miss Therese_ ’ has taught her that day.”

Therese smiles and shrugs sheepishly. “She’s a sweet girl. Smart, and _very_ creative.”

This time, it’s Carol who appears flattered. The soft hint of pink across her cheeks does not go unnoticed by Therese, who feels the urge to share a string of compliments if _that_ is the result. When she finally finds the right words, however, she’s interrupted by their waitress, who sets the coffee cup down in front of Carol, then returns to her station at the front of the café.

“Have you always lived in New York?” Therese asks, immediately regretting how incredibly boring the question is. The soft, flattered expression on Carol’s face turns a bit more rigid, and Therese now regrets it even more.

“Yes,” Carol answers. She picks up her coffee cup and drinks, leaving Therese to wait in uncomfortable silence. “Oddly enough,” Carol eventually continues, looking down at the table. “I’ve never really had the opportunity to go anywhere else.” Raising her head, she adds, “I don’t regret it though. New York is a lovely place. There is so much to see here – to do.” Carol smiles. “To experience.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Therese admits with the slightest laugh.

“Well, it just so happens that I’m somewhat of an expert when it comes to this town.” Carol digs into her purse and pulls a ten-dollar bill out of a sapphire blue wallet (which Therese can only assume is name brand by the large LV clasp in the center) and places it in the corner of the table. “Shall we?”

A cell phone rings. Both women reach for theirs, but it’s Carol who’s being called. “I’m sorry, this will just be a minute,” Carol insists with a whisper. “Is Rindy ok?” A pause. “Then what do you need?”

Therese tries to distract herself by people watching the couples they’re seated next to, but it’s almost impossible to keep from eavesdropping.

“ _Out_. I’m out. It’s been years. I don’t have to report to you with every single thing I do.”

Therese looks up at the ceiling, then the floor, then her hands – basically anywhere but the one-sided argument occurring in front of her.

“You’re a piece of work. I’m coming to get her.”

“No, I will _not_ have this argument right now.”

“ _No_. I’ll be there in-”

Carol taps repeatedly at the bottom of her cell phone, then tosses it into her bag. She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs. “I’m so sorry, Therese. I’m going to have to cut this short.” With her purse in hand, she stands and politely pushes her seat in. “Can I call you?”

“Y-yes,” Therese nods vigorously. “Of course.”

“Tonight?”

As the epitome of awkward, Therese gives a thumbs up in response.

Without another word, Carol turns on her heels and exits the café. When Therese is certain Carol’s out of view, she crosses her arms on the table and buries her head into them, grumbling loudly.

With impeccable timing, their waitress returns. “Would you like another coffee?”

Therese looks up and sighs. “Got anything stronger?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that didn't go exactly as Therese expected it, did it? But fear not - a real date is on its way...
> 
> What will happen next?
> 
> Comments, as always, inspire the author and make her smile :) I love hearing from you all, so please - comment away! And thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One never really _plans_ to update twice in one weekend, but the world works in mysterious ways...
> 
> ;)

Although their lunch date turned out to be somewhat of a disaster, Therese doesn’t feel quite as awful about it as she’d anticipated. In fact, when she returns home from her apartment, she feels inspired, which appears to be the new normal when it comes to her interactions with Carol; capitalizing on it, she digs into the depths of her art collection, opting for something different than the unfinished canvas in the corner of the room.

Unexpectedly, she finds a collection of old, traditionally-developed photographs. Rubber bands separate them by subject and time, and she only has to look for a second to recognize the first stack. It makes Therese feel a little raw having just discussed her an hour before. Despite everything they’d been through, there’s no way she’d forget Genevieve. Although the subject of the image is turned to the side, with long brown hair that flows down her back and a bright light that obscures her face, Therese remembers every detail of her…of that day….of _everything_.

But that was then, and this is now, Therese tries to remind herself. And although she’s tried to guard herself since, she can’t help but feel like something new is on the horizon to set her whole life ablaze. Whether she sparks or crashes and burns, she’s certain to melt either way.

Fingering through the hefty stack of prints, Therese is reminded of her figure drawing course when she comes across an array of hands, eyes, and backs – among other body parts. She’d needed some images to reference to improve her skills between classes, and now, Therese is pleasantly surprised to have found the photographs she’d assumed had been long lost.

With dozens of stacks to go through, they serve as an excellent distraction from her cell phone, which she’s practically glued to as she waits for the promised call from Carol; the spotty service in her apartment notwithstanding, there is no way Therese will miss this call. When she reaches the end of a particular set, she taps the home button on her phone and checks her messages and voicemail, somewhat disappointed each time when there is nothing new.

Hours pass, and still nothing from Carol. Therese even contemplates calling her, but worries that it might come off as annoying or too forward. After all, Carol had specifically said that she’d call _tonight_.

Therese checks the time: 10:00pm. Late, but the night isn’t exactly _over_.

As if on cue, her cell phone rings. She practically lunges across the couch for it and frantically taps the “Accept” button. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

Therese pulls her knees into her chest and curls into the corner armrest. She holds the cell phone flush against her ear, and before she has the chance to say something else, she’s taken aback by the distinct sound of sniffling, almost as if Carol had been crying. “Is everything ok?”

Another sniff. “Oh, yes," Carol assures, somewhat unconvincingly. “It’s just been….” She sighs. “A trying day, to say the least. I’m so sorry I didn’t get in touch with you sooner.”

Therese isn’t quite sure what to say in response.

“I wanted to call and apologize for how rude I was leaving like that. I’d promised to take you around town, and I was so looking forward to it.”

“So was I,” Therese agrees. She realizes how terse that may sound, so she adds, “But it’s really ok. There’s always another time. As long as Rindy is ok.”

“Oh yes, she’s fine. Asleep upstairs, in fact.” There’s a few seconds of silence on the other end, and Therese has to check her screen to make sure the call hasn’t dropped.

“I promise you, Therese, that I will make up for today.” Carol’s words are the tiniest bit slurred.

“That _really_ isn’t necessar-“

“Would you like to come over? Rindy won’t be bothered, and if I’m being honest, I could use the company.”

Therese sits up, and her eyes go wide at the thought.

“If you don’t already have plans for tonight.”

“No, I…” Therese glances over at the clock on top of her television. Truth be told, on a normal Saturday night, she’d be in bed already with a good book or binge watching an entire season of Unsolved Mysteries. By 11, she’d be fast asleep. But Carol sounds desperate - uncharacteristically vulnerable, possibly a bit drunk - and for reasons Therese isn’t exactly certain of, she’s turned to _her_ in her time of need.  

She looks down at the basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt she’d changed into after their lunch date. Certainly not appropriate for an almost-midnight rendezvous, she decides. “Can you give me a few to get ready?”

Therese can practically hear Carol smile on the other end of the line.

“I’ll text you the address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more.


	12. Chapter 12

Therese pulls into the driveway of 105 Heather Creek at a quarter past 11. Despite the darkness, she’s instantly enamored with the old century charm of Carol’s suburban home. Therese had expected a modern mansion, but she’s pleasantly surprised by its 20th century farmhouse design, accented with original arched windows and a slate crossed gable roof.

As she sits in her Fusion, Therese’s hands shake against the steering wheel. She supposes she could attribute it to the air conditioning running at full blast, causing her entire car to vibrate with a low hum, but she knows she’d be lying to herself; it’s the prospect of what’s to come that terrifies her. After a few minutes of self-convincing, she turns the engine off and makes her way to Carol’s front door.

Therese only manages a single knock before the door swings open. The entryway is dimly lit, which casts Carol in long, grey shadows that make the whole late night encounter feel even more mysterious than Therese had anticipated.

“Would you like to come in?” Carol asks with a smile. Her eyes are slightly swollen and red, but piercing and beautiful nevertheless.

Therese responds with a nod, following Carol toward what she can only assume is the living room. As their path brightens, Therese takes in the details – not just of the house, but of her host. Dressed in loose, silk pajamas with her hair pinned back, Carol is a vision in red. Therese is envious of the way she looks effortlessly beautiful. If it were anyone else, Therese would be silently cursing them, but Carol is far from ' _anyone else_ '.

“Can I get you a drink?” It's less a question and more a formality, as Carol hands her a crystal glass before she has the time to respond either way. And although she's not much of a drinker, she'll take whatever she can get to calm her nerves, which skyrocket when she notices the way Carol's night shirt is slightly unbuttoned at the top. Therese leans her head back, closes her eyes, and gulps, whiskey quickly burning its way down her throat. When she looks back up a few seconds later, Carol is smiling at her.

“You have a lovely home,” Therese comments awkwardly.

Carol sits at the end of the living room sectional, ushering Therese beside her with a pat. “I do what I can.”

Therese joins her from a safe distance across the sofa. Even from afar, she can see the look of disappointment on Carol's face.

Feeling guilty, Therese takes a sip of whiskey to reinforce her nerves, then moves next to Carol, now mere inches – instead of feet – away. The scent of flowery perfume and strong whiskey make Therese feel a bit lightheaded, only made worse when Carol leans closer.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Therese practically squeaks.

“For being here. You hardly know me, so I can imagine being asked to come over so late seemed at least a _little_ odd.”

Therese shrugs. “Not odd. Mysterious, maybe?”

Carol laughs. “Can't say I've heard that one before.” She looks down at her lap and plays with one of the wrinkles in the silk of her pants. “I'm considerably less exciting when the mystery wears off, I'm sure.”

“Not true,” Therese argues.

“You barely know me.”

With the aid of liquid courage, Therese feels more brazen. “I want to.”

Carol looks up. Reaching forward, she cups Therese's cheek in her hand, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The sigh that falls from Therese's lips is involuntary, and she only allows herself a brief moment of embarrassment before returning her focus on the feeling of Carol's closeness. Goosebumps form along the path of Carol's fingertips, and Therese suddenly feels warm in a way she can't attribute to hard liquor. Even so, a long shiver starts at the base of her neck and snakes its way down her spine.

“You're trembling,” Carol whispers.

“Mama?”

Therese pulls away instinctively, looking at the visitor at the entryway whose voice she instantly recognizes.

“Rindy, darling, it is way past your bedtime,” Carol reminds her daughter.

“Miss Therese?” Rindy greets excitedly. “Are you here for a sleepover?”

Therese practically chokes on air, while Carol brings a hand over her face to hide the smile there.

“No sweetheart. She's just here for a visit.”

“Do you want to see my stuffed animals?!”

“Rindy-”

“I'll even show you my special unicorn!”

“Rindy,” Carol scolds, standing. “Bed. Now.”

“I'd love to see them,” Therese interrupts, joining the two in front of the hallway. “How about this? You go upstairs to bed with your mom, and you can bring your unicorn into class on Monday for show-and-tell. I'd love for you to tell me all about him.”

“She's a _girl_ ,” Rindy corrects with an eyeroll, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Carol chuckles.

“Oh, my apologies to Miss Unicorn.” Therese winks. “Now off to bed.”

“Mama, will you tuck me in?” She looks up at her mother, wide-eyed.

“Of course, darling. Go on up – I'll be there in a minute.” When Rindy is out of sight, Carol turns to Therese. “I'm so sorry. With everything going on lately, she's been having some trouble sleeping. I thought we'd worked through it, but...” She pinches the bridge of her nose, frustrated.

“Please don't apologize,” Therese insists. “Go to her. I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're a good girl, Therese,” Carol sighs appreciatively. She gives Therese's hand a quick squeeze before bounding up the stairs to her daughter's room. Even after Carol has gone, the skin on Therese's hand tingles.

For a short while, Therese simply stands at the bottom of the staircase, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. After ten minutes or so, she decides to venture through the house in search of a bathroom to freshen up.

Like the living room, the rest of the house is floored in amazing hardwood. The hallway walls, painted a blue-ish grey, are decorated with a series of paintings and photographs in a variety of mounts and frames. Therese is, unsurprisingly, drawn to them. Desperate for a closer look, she fumbles around in search of a light switch, eventually finding one outside of what appears to Therese to be an office or craft room.

The first set of photographs are a set of family portraits, with Carol, Rindy and an unnamed man. Although she's only met him once, Therese recognizes him, and can only assume it is Rindy's father by the way he stands possessively next to Carol, one arm wrapped around the middle of her waist to pull her into what is clearly a forced embrace. Rindy, holding her mother's leg for dear life, appears to only be two or three years old, and Therese realizes that the photo must have been taken quite some time ago.

As she moves down the hall, there are more and more pictures of Rindy and Carol – a day at the beach and a visit to the library are only two of many candids. Unlike the full family portrait, Carol and Rindy look genuinely happy, visibly smiling and laughing and generally at-ease.

Therese is slightly taken aback by a photo of Abby and Carol with a larger group of finely dressed men and women. Carol – in a dark blue suit, and _god_ , does she look _amazing_ in a suit – stands in line next to Abby and a few other women Therese recognizes as the teachers of Forest Meadow Elementary. But with her daughter just starting school, Therese wonders why Carol would have been there. Her friendship with Abby may have been a reason, but the vibe of the picture seems to be more formal than a standard visit with a friend.

As she continues down the hall, the final image on the left – a black and white portrait – almost takes Therese's breath away. She reaches forward and runs her fingertips over the glass in admiration. The bright blue of Carol's eyes shine brightly in the two-toned print, and the sharp angles of light accent her smooth skin, dark lips, and powerful cheekbones.

When something gently presses against her lower back, Therese practically jumps ten feet in the air.

“I'm sorry,” Carol apologizes when Therese turns to her. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Who took this?” Therese asks, pointing to the black-and-white photograph.

“An old friend,” Carol responds cryptically. “I know it's a little narcissistic to have a portrait of yourself hanging up, but I fell so in love with the style of it. Ever since then, I've been a rather obsessive collector of art. Paintings and photographs especially.”

“It's absolutely stunning,” Therese compliments. “I've seen a lot of photography, but this is incredibly impressive. I don't think I'll ever come close to this type of talent.”

Carol scoffs. “Nonsense. I've seen some of your work. You're incredible.”

Therese shakes her head. “You've seen paintings, not photos.”

“I'd be honored to hang your work in my home.”

Immediately, Therese thinks of the watercolor painting she'd started only a few days before, inspired by her interactions with Carol. “I've been working on some things at my apartment,” she confesses. “Maybe you'd like to come by sometime? It's certainly not a studio, or a house like this, but...”

Carol raises an eyebrow and smiles. She takes a step forward, less than a foot away from a very nervous Therese. With the gap closed, Therese notices just how tall Carol is, having to look up to keep eye contact. Therese's heart races as Carol reaches down and caresses the back of her neck; it's soft, tender, and yet surprisingly electrifying. Every nerve in her body tingles, from the tip of her fingers to the end of her toes.

And just when she's certain she's going to be kissed, Carol pulls away.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Monday morning is torturous. Therese spends the entirety of her Sunday doing laundry, cleaning her apartment, and trying to figure out what the hell kind of mixed signals Carol had sent her the night before. It had ended innocently, with Carol noticing the time and not wanting Therese to stay out too late and encounter a weekend drunk driver. “Worrying comes with the territory of being a mother,” Carol had explained. Turns out trying to decipher their blossoming chemistry is utterly exhausting, and Therese finds this particular Monday to be a struggle.

Therese arrives to her classroom with only a few minutes to spare before the morning bell. Almost all of her students are in their seats, eagerly awaiting the week ahead with bright smiles. She greets them with a quick “hello” before navigating to her desk to grab the papers she'd printed out in advance on Friday – an introduction to the “ABCs”.

Although she's only seen it once before, Therese immediately recognizes Carol's handwriting on a small, beige envelope in the center of her desk. With a swipe of her finger, she tears open the seal. The letter she's expecting, however, is absent. Instead, an old metal key falls onto her desk, wrapped in a piece of masking tape with a single word.

**STUDIO**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are always so lovely, and I enjoy talking with each and every one of you! Keep them comin' - they make the author smile and inspire more! Hope you've enjoyed this tantalizing update - what might Carol be up to, hmm?! ;)
> 
> In light of the slow burn torture I've been putting you all through, I'm starting work on a post Oak Room steamy one-shot, so look out for that soon as well!
> 
> If inclined, feel free to follow me on Twitter or Tumblr so we can chat about this and all other things Carol!
> 
> Twitter: @pattilupwned  
> Tumblr: awomanontheverge


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd planned to wait until Saturday to update, but couldn't wait, so here you are, dear friends! Hope you enjoy!

 When the noon bell rings and her students have settled into the cafeteria, Therese takes her lunch at her desk. She plays with the crust of her turkey sandwich on wheat bread, her mind elsewhere as she stares at her cell phone screen.

As soon as she'd had the opportunity, she'd pulled up the text message thread Carol had started over the weekend and sent her a picture message of the mysterious key, captioned with “ _???_ ”. She'd expected Carol to respond right away, but 45 minutes of her lunch break pass without a word. Therese dreads having to spend the rest of the afternoon in this odd state of confusion, excitement, and anticipation. Thankfully, six-year-olds aren't particularly in tune with subtext, and Therese is grateful no one seemed to notice that while she's physically there, her thoughts are elsewhere – fifteen miles away in a suburban New York neighborhood, to be exact.

Just when Therese is certain she won't be hearing back from Carol before the end of the lunch break, her cell phone dings.

“Meet you in your classroom at 4. The babysitter will be there to pick up Rindy.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

“Staying late?”

Therese looks up from the stack of classwork she's reviewing, taken aback by the visitor in the hall. Although they've met in passing, Therese wouldn't exactly consider herself close to Abby Gerhard, so the fact that she's standing in the doorway is unexpected to say the least.

“Yeah, just trying to finish this up,” Therese explains.

“It's Kindergarten – how much work can it be?”

Although Abby's clearly teasing, it rubs Therese the wrong way. She turns back to her papers and taps the edge of her red grading pen against her desk in annoyance. “Can I help you with something?”

“No, no. Was just leaving for the night. I saw your light on and wondered what you were still doing here.”

Before Therese has the chance to respond with something uncharacteristically snarky, she hears Abby turn and walk a few feet to greet someone at the other side of the hall. It gets Therese's attention, and she can't help but eavesdrop, looking up once again from her paperwork and scooting her rolling desk chair a bit closer to the door.

“Carol, what are you doing here?”

“Special business,” Carol responds in a playful tone.

Abby laughs. “Is that what they're calling it these days?”

“Hush.”

“I should have known-”

“ _Hush_ , Abby, [before someone drops a house on you too](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btPfmWrS6AY).”

That elicits somewhat of a cackle from Abby, which echoes through the emptiness of the elementary.

Their conversation quiets to barely above a whisper, and Therese's eavesdropping proves more difficult. She leans as close as she can to the door without being noticed. When Carol suddenly appears – alone – at the door, Therese almost falls over the side of her chair.

“Carol!” Therese exclaims, clutching her chest. “You scared me.”

Carol shakes her head and chuckles. “Are you ready to go?”

Therese smooths out her skirt with her palms, then nods. “Yes.” She pulls the rusted key from her blazer pocket and holds it between her thumb and index finger. “Where are we going?” As Carol returns to the hall, Therese jumps up and follows behind like a lovesick puppy.

“Patience, Ms. Belivet,” Carol instructs with her back to Therese.

When they walk deeper into the school and away from the exit, Therese finds it difficult to hide the confusion clearly written all over her face. Carol must sense her uncertainty, as it takes about twenty seconds for her to turn toward Therese with a sigh. “Will you trust me?” she pleads softly.

Therese nods and looks down at her shoes, a bit embarrassed. She follows Carol silently the rest of the way, moving through the dimly lit hallways of the south wing of Forest Meadow Elementary. She can't help but wonder how Carol is so familiar with the layout of the school, but chews on the inside of her lip and tells herself to keep quiet. Just when Therese is certain they've passed by every room, Carol leads her down a set of unfamiliar stairs at the very end of the hallway.

They don't walk very far through this unknown hallway, stopping in front of a worn wooden door a few feet from the stairs. Carol turns on her heel and holds out her hand toward Therese. “Key?”

Therese gently places it against Carol's palm and waits with bated breath.

“It's been awhile since it was really used for anything,” Carol explains, fiddling with the handle. After a few seconds, the lock opens with a ' _pop_ ', and the door swings open to reveal the room on the other side of it.

To say Therese is overwhelmed would be an understatement. When she'd mentioned to Carol that she was looking for somewhere to work on her art, she hadn't expected her to _give_ her a studio. The room itself is old, the walls lined in grey brick that crumbles at the edges. The tile floors are patterned right out of the 1980's, and the oddly-tinted hue of the lights make Therese feel like she's in a serial killer's lair. Yet, she wouldn't want her studio to be any other way.

“I tried to clean it up as best I could,” Carol confesses.

Therese walks around the studio in a semi-haze. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Carol walk toward two fold-up tables at the other side of the room. Interested, Therese turns and meets Carol there, only to find – to her surprise – a collection of art supplies, including canvases of various sizes, brushes, charcoal, erasers, and a 24 color set of professional oil paints.

“I figured you might need something to get started. Consider it my way of welcoming you to the city.” Carol leans against the side of one of the tables. Therese can feel Carol staring at her, urging her for some kind of response – some assurance that this was not a total disaster of an idea. But she can't find the words to express how she's feeling, instead standing wide-eyed in front of Carol.

“Do you like it?” Carol asks softly. Therese notices how she crosses her arms over her chest, almost defensively, as though she's waiting for a crushing blow of words.

“I...” It takes Therese a few seconds to find her voice. “How? How did you-”

Carol shakes her head and waves her hand dismissively. “Nevermind that. Do you _like_ it?”

“Carol, it's _amazing_ ,” Therese finally exclaims. “It's....it's more than amazing. _You're_ amazing.” She waves her hands around excitedly, gesturing toward each corner of the room. “This place is bigger than my apartment,” Therese jokes.

Carol joins her with a laugh. “You're happy, then?”

“Happy doesn't even begin to describe it.”

With a smile, Carol reaches for Therese's hands.

Therese reciprocates without any hesitation.

“Perhaps you can revive the art club you were telling me about?” Carol suggests not-so-coyly.

“Oh,” Therese responds with a sigh, her shoulders sinking. “Erin told me something about the board not approving the request.” She shrugs. “Do you know her? I don't think she really li-”

“Oh she _did_ , did she?” Carol raises an eyebrow. The excited expression on her face hardens just a bit, and Therese is embarrassed by how attracted she is to the pronounced shadow of Carol's tight jawline. The tension in the air is thick when the subject of Erin Smithson is brought up, but in light of Carol's generosity, Therese refrains from delving deeper into it. However, she's never been great at hiding her emotions, and even though they've only interacted a handful of times, she knows Carol can read her like an open book.

The moment of unease is thankfully brief, and when their eyes meet moments later, there is warmth on Carol's face once again.

“Therese, you can come here any time you would like,” Carol explains. “All I ask is that you keep this our secret until I say otherwise, ok?” She gives Therese's hands a squeeze.

At Carol's request, Therese's heart races. Although all the red flags wave furiously and the sirens blare at a deafening volume, Therese is unashamedly turned on by the concept of something forbidden between her and Carol. Throwing caution to the wind, she gives in to the adrenaline pumping through her, leaning forward to press her lips against Carol's.

At first, Carol doesn't react. A million scenarios play through Therese's head as they stand, unmoving. Perhaps she'd misread Carol's body language, or projected some sort of persona onto Carol that wasn't true to form. Or perhaps Carol's changed her mind, finding Therese's kiss to be horribly repulsive; it certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd been rejected by a one-sided crush, and she's certain it won't be the last. Perhaps the studio was simply a gesture of friendship.

Then Carol's fingers slip through her hair and pull her closer, and any apprehension Therese feels instantly disappears. When Carol opens her mouth to kiss her more deeply, Therese can taste spearmint on her tongue, as though she'd chewed on a mint prior to their meeting. Before allowing herself to get completely lost in the moment, Therese briefly wonders if this knee-buckling kiss hadn't been Carol's plan all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahaha.
> 
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments thus far. This fandom truly is amazing, and I'm grateful for all the feedback you have given. If inclined, let me know what you think - or what your guess is as to what's to come!!


	14. Chapter 14

Therese feels as though she is floating. When she returns to her apartment that night, she barely remembers the drive home, let alone leaving the elementary. Instead, she's overwhelmed by the way her body burns and her lips tingle. She recalls many first kisses in her past, but none have made her as dizzy as the one shared just hours ago.

For the rest of the night, Therese checks her cell phone every few minutes, making sure she hasn't missed a call or text. Although she's had her share of relationships in the past, whatever is blossoming feels different, and she's not exactly sure what type of dating etiquette to follow when it comes to Carol. Would a text message be too impersonal? On the other hand, would a phone call be too annoying after they'd just seen each other?

Over and over, Therese tries to craft the perfect text, the cursor blinking menacingly at her as she struggles to find the right words. Around 10pm, she finally puts together a coherent sentence.

_When can I see you again?_

Therese stares at the words in the message window. She reads them over and over again in her head, placing inflection on a different word each time to try and anticipate all the different ways Carol might interpret them.

Realizing how ridiculous she's being, Therese tosses her phone aside and lunges into bed. It doesn't need to be this difficult, she tries to remind herself. Carol's probably at home with a cocktail and a book, feeling perfectly content with their kiss and not obsessing over what she might be doing this very moment. But maybe – just _maybe_ – Carol's feeling just as nervous, crafting her own flirty text messages only to delete them over and over again.

Therese buries her face in a pillow and grumbles.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Although Rindy Aird is one of the smartest in her class, it doesn't take long for Therese to realize that the six-year-old has trouble staying focused on a single task. It's to Therese's great surprise, then, when she finds Rindy in the corner during Tuesday's play hour with a set of bells in her hand, playing the same tune over and over while humming to herself.

“What are you up to today, Rindy?” Therese kneels down to the girl's height and smiles.

“I'm practicing!” Rindy explains, jingling the bells a few more times.

“What are you practicing for?” Therese asks, genuinely interested.

Rindy practically bursts with excitement, waving her hands excitedly. “Mrs. Tinsy says I get to play the bells at our music concert on Friday!”

“That's wonderful, Rindy!” Therese gives the girl's forearm a gentle squeeze. “You must be doing very well in music class.” She stands slowly and smooths out her skirt. “Have you told your mom?”

Rindy shakes her head. “Not yet!”

However selfish it may be, Therese senses an opportunity and decides to use it to her advantage. “Why don't we tell her today after school? I know she is going to be very proud of you.”

Rindy jumps up and down with a grin on her face, then charges toward Therese with the unstoppable force of a six-year-old. With her arms wrapped around Therese's waist, she squeezes tight and nuzzles her cheek against the bottom of Therese's blouse. “I can't wait, Miss Therese! Mama is going to be so happy!”

**-X-X-X-X-**

“Looks like someone's having fun today,” Carol laughs.

Therese turns away from the group of playing children she's overseeing to greet Carol with a smile. Despite the events of the previous night, she feels oddly shy in Carol's presence, her whole body tingling at the memory of their last interaction.

“Has she been this rambunctious all day?” Carol asks, pointing toward the corner of the room where her daughter runs in circles with a handful of classmates.

Before Therese gets the chance to respond, Rindy barrels over toward her mother and teacher. She can hardly catch her breath from all excitement, but that doesn't stop her from huffing and puffing out the beginning of her big news. “Mama! Bells....music...gonna...”

“Breathe, darling.” Carol reaches out and straightens the pink headband in Rindy's hair.

Dramatically inhaling, Rindy exclaims, “I'm gonna play the bells at the music concert!”

Carol looks over at Therese, as though she's asking her to confirm Rindy's news. With a tiny nod, Therese smiles and adds, “She's been practicing all day. I've never seen her so focused.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Carol coos, pulling Rindy into her arms. “I am so proud of you.” She kisses all over her daughter's cheek, and Rindy's face scrunches up in embarrassment. “I think this is cause for celebration!”

Rindy wiggles away from her mother's hold. “Yes!!!”

“Perhaps you'd like to join us?” Carol suggests smoothly, turning back toward Therese.

“Oh, I...” Therese looks over at the group of playing children, still waiting for their parents. “I have to wait with them, but I'll be here if you want to find me later.” It's as subtle as she can get without mentioning the studio outright, but Carol seems to understand, with a knowing smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye.

“Come on darling,” Carol calls, ushering Rindy out of the room. Before she leaves, Carol nonchalantly moves next to Therese and whispers, “See you later, dear.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

When all of her students have been picked up, and she's certain there are no other teachers around to follow her, Therese makes her way down to the studio with a bag of supplies she's brought from home. Over the course of an hour, she takes the time to setup the studio to her liking, removing the items Carol provided from their packaging while supplementing any holes with her own supplies. Once settled, Therese notes the need for an easel, but all of the other bases have been covered, and she decides to finally sit down and _create_.

Pulling her sketchpad from her bag, Therese decides to continue the work with pastels she'd started only a few days before. With the lips complete, she decides to focus on one of the most striking of Carol's features - her eyes. The electric blue has been engrained in her mind since their first meeting, and it takes a few tests on a spare sheet of paper to find the perfect blend of pastels to achieve the shade she's looking for.

When the studio door unexpectedly opens, Therese jumps to her feet, afraid she's been caught.

“Knock knock,” Carol greets with a smile, holding a small brown bag in her hand. “I come bearing sweets!”

Therese tries to hide her work in progress, not quite ready to put it on display until she can compare it against who inspired it, but she isn't quick enough.

Carol swoops over her shoulder like a hawk. “What's this?” She rests her hands on Therese's shoulders and leans forward to get a closer look.

“It's....” Therese is momentarily distracted by Carol's touch. “It's nothing yet.”

“I could pose for you,” Carol suggests playfully. “Better to work from the real thing, right?”

Coyly, and to catch Carol off guard, Therese responds with, “I'd love that, actually.”

Raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, Carol smirks. “Your place or mine?”

Therese rises from her chair and turns to face Carol. With her palms flat against the table, she lifts herself up a bit and sits on the edge of it, her legs dangling over the side.

“I was thinking here, actually.”

Carol takes the cue, stepping forward until their knees touch. “Scandalous. I didn't take you for an exhibitionist,” Carol teases. A red, manicured finger traces along the bare skin beneath Therese's skirt, and she melts into Carol like a puddle. “I brought you a snack,” Carol breathes against Therese's lips, “but I doubt you're very hungry right now.”

“I am. _Starving_ , really.”

To Therese's pleasure, Carol initiates this time, grasping her by the shirt collar and kissing her roughly. The tentative touches and tender nature of their previous embraces are gone. The intensity of Carol's kisses can be felt in every inch of her body, and Therese feels as though Carol may very well consume every breath of air in her lungs.

“Come home with me?” Carol suggests, placing deliberate, open-mouthed kisses along Therese's neck.

Therese shivers. “This weekend. After Rindy's concert. Can we go somewhere?”

“Anywhere you'd like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	15. Chapter 15

Therese arrives home around 8:30 to a body on fire. After a particularly intense session of necking, they'd both reluctantly agreed to call it a night, eagerly anticipating their impromptu weekend alone. “I'll text you,” Carol promised with a kiss on Therese's cheek.

Alone at her cheap fold-out dinner table, Therese picks at her microwaved Asian stir fry and lets her mind wander to Carol once more. Although it'd been a flirtatious suggestion, she can't shake the image of Carol posing for her. With each instruction, Carol would be under her complete control – entirely at her mercy. Of course, she'd respect Carol – Therese would never dream of anything otherwise - but the mere thought of telling Carol what to do turns her on more than she'd like to admit.

Letting her fork fall to the table with a clang, she leaves her dinner half eaten and opts for a shower.

There are few luxuries in living alone, but Therese has found one in particular that she's grown quite fond of – the ability to strip naked without a care. She tosses her clothes in the hallway hamper and, with a fresh towel in hand, makes her way to the tiny apartment bathroom. The shower comes to life with a slow hiss, and while Therese waits for the water to warm, she looks at herself in the full length mirror attached to the inside of the door. Cocking her head to the side, she notices a particularly dark hickey on the outside of her neck; she makes a mental note to buy some cover up and chastise Carol for putting it there in the first place.

It's truly ironic that the whole situation makes her feel like a bit of a schoolgirl again, hiding love marks and poking and prodding at her body in disappointment. Here she is – a grown woman and a _teacher_ – reduced to feeling like a teenager all over again. With a sigh, she steps away from the mirror and into the shower.

For several minutes, Therese simply stands in the center of the tub with her arms crossed over her waist and her eyes closed. Her mind wanders as hot water trickles down her back and steam swirls around her. Since Therese was a child, the bath has always been a place to escape. There, her creativity flows and her imagination runs wild. In her adult life, the opportunities to relax grow fewer and fewer, but Therese always appreciates the fifteen or so minutes a day to clear her head. This time, instead of her work, she's consumed with thoughts of a different kind of art – one with blonde hair, blood red lips and crystal blue eyes.

Therese is more than slightly embarrassed by how enamored she is with Carol. They've shared so little with each other besides the physical – and even that has stopped short each time – yet Therese feels as though Carol reads her like an open book, understanding all of her pain and frustrations without needing to say a word. The thought of an entire weekend together terrifies and excites her. She's desperate for some time alone with Carol – without the distraction of colleagues and children and ex-husbands. Yet, Therese is terrified she'll crumble without a crutch and excuse to lean on.

Fifteen minutes later, Therese walks into her room wrapped in a towel. Even with air conditioning, the apartment is stuffy and humid, and Therese is in no hurry to get dressed. Instead, she switches on the small television set atop her dresser and sprawls out across her bed. Suddenly, her cell phone begins to buzz and chime from its place on her nightstand. Therese reaches for it without moving from the bed and, once safely in hand, taps the message app.

**1 text message: Carol**

**Carol:** _Hello, dear. Hope you made it safely home._

Therese responds promptly, her thumbs tapping against the screen.

**Therese:** _Yes, sorry I didn't text earlier. Just getting out of the shower._

Therese sits up, reading the sent message over and over in her head. No one texts that they're “in the shower” without trying to be flirty, just like no one sends an eggplant emoji to truly represent an _eggplant_. Maybe, subconsciously, she'd _meant_ for it to be flirty. When Carol doesn't reply immediately, Therese brushes back a few wet strands of her hair from her face and turns on the camera app to her phone. With it set to the front camera, she positions her phone at a sharp angle so that her lips, jaw and neck are in view, as well as the very top of her towel. Some water trickles down her face and shoulder as a sort of artsy accent. It's suggestive without being too over the top, and capitalizing on a brief moment of confidence, Therese snaps the picture and sends it to Carol.

Three dots immediately appear at the bottom of the message chain. Therese suddenly feels like she may vomit.

**Carol:** _You are....stunning, Therese._

**Carol:** _I'm afraid no matter how hard I might try, I couldn't send anything on par._

Therese's hands shake as she replies.

**Therese:** _I highly doubt that. You are beautiful, Carol._

A few minutes pass, and without a reply from Carol, Therese decides to finally find some pajamas and hop into bed. She opts for a pair of red shorts with cartoon elephants on them she'd bought on clearance years ago with a matching top. As she turns off the light to her room, she notices a blue glow from her cell phone tangled in her bedsheet. When Therese sees it's another message from Carol, she feels a strange mixture of excitement and hesitation, unsure what waits for her in the thread.

She holds her breath and taps.

In an attached image, Carol appears curled up in bed. Her head rests in one hand with the other having clearly been used to take the selfie. Wavy hair hides half of her face, but Therese immediately recognizes her anyway. Fresh faced, she's dressed in a thin black night shirt that Therese is certain – in the right light – could be completely see through. Simply put, Carol looks absolutely stunning, and Therese momentarily regrets having not gone home with her.

**Therese:** _Breathtaking._

**Carol:** _Hardly, but you're sweet._

Therese snaps another picture, this time particularly focused on her neck.

**Therese:** _Look familiar?_

**Carol:** _Oh my. How did that get there?_

Therese chuckles quietly to herself.

**Carol:** _When can I see you again?_

Therese grins like a fool, reminded of the night before when she had tried to muster the courage to text Carol that exact question.

**Therese:** _Rindy's concert, maybe? I'll be there._

Another picture comes through – this time, without Carol's face in view. It's similar to Therese's, only instead of a towel, the strap on one side of Carol's shirt is pulled down, and the curve of her neck, shoulder and collarbones are clearly on display.

**Carol:** _So far away. Three whole days. Are you sure?_

At one sight of the picture, Therese's whole face grows hot. She bites on her lower lip and responds.

**Therese:** _Christ, Carol._

**Carol:** _I'll be at the school tomorrow in the late morning. Meet me in the studio at lunch?_

For a brief moment, Therese contemplates getting in her car and driving over to Heather Creek. Going 60 or so, she could probably get there in about fifteen minutes. But that would be too easy, Therese realizes. In this game of cat and mouse, Therese decides that the roles sometimes need reversed.

**Therese:** _I'm afraid I can't tomorrow. Friday is perfect though._

**Therese:** _I suppose you'll just have to imagine me in the meantime._

She adds a winking emoji for good measure.

A minute later, Carol replies.

**Carol:** _Oh, darling. You have no idea._

A few seconds later, another message comes through.

**Carol:** _Sweet dreams, dear. <3 _

The heart emoji at the end keeps Therese up for hours interpreting all the possibilities.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your lovely comments <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been bananas these last two weeks. Sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy :)

It's one thing to say no, but another to actually stick with it, as Therese soon learns. When Carol enters her classroom Wednesday morning – dressed in a pair of black slacks, matching button up blouse with cream colored buttons, and a set of blood red high heels that match her chosen hue of lipstick – Therese feels her resolve instantly slip. Carol clearly teases her on purpose, the tiny hint of a smile almost daring Therese to decline again.

Had anyone ever told Carol no and lived to tell the tale?

Carol urges Rindy to her seat with a gentle pat on her back. “Have a good day, darling.” She lifts her chin and stands regally beside Therese's desk. “You too, Ms. Belivet.”

It's something about the way Carol says her name – so formal, so unexpected -– that makes the butterflies flutter in the pit of Therese's stomach; she refuses to be bested so easily, though. “Thank you, Mrs. Aird. You look very nice today.” _Two can play this game_ , Therese decides, pleased with herself.

Carol raises an eyebrow. She clears her throat, then fusses with the collar of her blouse, and Therese basks in Carol's nervousness.

When the nine o' clock bell rings loudly, Carol quickly winks, then turns and leaves without a word. Yet, Therese knows it will not be the last she hears of it.

**-X-X-X-X-**

At 2pm, Therese's students shuffle off to their music class. While most teachers spend their free periods grading, there's little homework or exams in Kindergarten, so Therese finds other uses for it by prepping for the following day. With her key to the copy room and a stack of papers in hand, she walks down the quiet hallways of Forest Meadow. She keeps her head bowed as she moves, eavesdropping inconspicuously on the classrooms she passes. The mumbled sounds of middle-aged teachers instructing their children are difficult to fully decipher, but Therese enjoys listening anyway, focused more on the tone and inflection of her coworkers than what exactly they're saying.

When she rounds the corner, an all-too-familiar voice greets her, but it isn't the one she _wants_ to hear.

“Therese.” Erin's voice is calm, even. It's not angry, not cold, but lukewarm, and Therese isn't sure what lies ahead of her.

She holds her stack of papers close to her chest. “Hi, Erin,” she responds softly.

“How have you been?”

Therese hates small talk. She walks passed Erin and places her first item into the copier. “I'm alright,” she eventually replies when the machine comes to life with a beep. “You?”

“Good.” They stand in uncomfortable silence for awhile before Erin continues. “I wanted to tell you that the school board will be meeting next week to discuss a variety of things, one of them being clubs and activities for this year. I thought you'd like to know.”

Therese turns toward Erin. “Ok?”

“It isn't widely publicized, but as a teacher, you're allowed to attend. Air your grievances if you have any.”

Therese purses her lips and raises her eyebrows. “Great. I'll keep that in mind.” The whole conversation makes Therese feel supremely uneasy. Last time they'd spoken, Erin had practically hissed at her, yet today she is all smiles and pleasantries. Trust is earned, and Therese reminds herself that Erin has done nothing to deserve it. Still, she realizes that it's her job to at least keep a friendly environment, so she manages a weak smile to appease the woman hovering beside her.

“How's your-”

“I have to get back to my class,” Therese interrupts, grabbing the warm stack of papers from the other side of the copier. “I'll see you around?”

Therese doesn't wait around for Erin's response, sprinting in the opposite direction to get away as quickly as possible. She's not sure what evil scheme Erin is concocting, but Therese is certain she wants no part in it. The escape route she chooses requires her to take the long way back to her classroom, but she has plenty of time before her students return, so it poses no threat. In fact, it comes as a pleasant reprieve from the same old hallway she's used to. Therese strolls slowly, admiring the various hand-made drawings and “ _Welcome Back!_ ” posters stuck on the walls. As she continues forward, out of the corner of her eye, Therese notices that the conference room – which she's only ever been in for her initial interview months ago – is full of well-dressed men and women. There's some sort of awful Powerpoint presentation playing overhead, and everyone looks intensely focused on a tall, dark-haired man Therese doesn't recognize who speaks at the front of the room. Well – _almost_ everyone is interested. A tall, well-dressed woman sits with her back to the door and her face angled toward the other corner of the room, clearly bored. With golden hair and a black blouse with the slightly popped collar, this unimpressed woman looks vaguely like...

Carol.

It couldn't be.

Could it?

**-X-X-X-X-**

Therese internally battles with herself for the rest of the day. She's absolutely certain it was Carol in the corner of the conference room, so it surprises her even more when it's Rindy's sitter that comes to pick the young girl up that afternoon. Momentarily, Therese considers texting Carol to come see her, assured that if she were to call, the older woman would be certain to answer. She'd have the opportunity to confront Carol honestly – ask what the hell is going on and, more importantly, what exactly she's hiding.

But their relationship is so new, and Therese is terrified to do anything to fracture it. If she incorrectly accuses Carol of lying, everything could come crumbling down. She'd lose the only true friend she has in New York, not to mention the thoughts of romance that have consumed her every waking moment, as well as a few dreams that she couldn't repeat without blushing.

Sighing, Therese tosses her cell phone in her bag and leaves for her car. When she hears the familiar chime of a text message from the depths of her tote, Therese twists the volume knob to her radio and drowns out all thoughts of Forest Meadow and its inhabitants.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Hours later, Therese finally looks at the messages waiting in her inbox.

 **Carol, 3:15pm:** _I'm afraid I need to have a one-on-one parent-teacher conference with you, Ms. Belivet._

Therese snorts.

 **Carol, 5:45pm:** _Strictly professional, I assure you. ;)_

 **Carol, 9:30pm:** _Therese? Are you ok?_

Feeling coy – and still a bit perplexed – Therese replies.

 **Therese:** _I'm sorry, who is this? ;)_

She adds a winking smiley at the end to clarify the playful tone.

 **Carol:** _Mrs. Aird, dear. I believe you complimented my outfit today?_

 _Mrs. Aird_ \- a teasing throwback to their earlier conversation. She knew Carol would never let her live that one down.

 **Therese:** _Oh, right. I think I remember you._

Therese briefly contemplates asking Carol what she was doing at the school; it would likely calm the feeling of uncertainty in the pit of her stomach. But she hadn't _really_ gotten a good look at the woman in the conference room, and for all Therese knows, it could have been a completely random board member she's never met before. Perhaps, in due time, Carol will open up to her more, but for now, Therese pushes the nagging feeling of concern aside.

 **Therese:** _Goodnight, Carol. I'll see you on Friday._

**-X-X-X-X-**

“It's so sweet of you to come, Ms. Belivet,” one parent compliments as Therese walks into the gymnasium of the school. All twenty of her Kindergarteners shuffle nervously around two plastic tables covered with a variety of hand instruments. The sight of little Timothy Marquette - holding a tambourine that's practically larger than his face – makes Therese snort, and when she watches toothless Kristin Jacobs struggle to carry out a set of red-painted drums, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from cackling aloud. Although she loves her students, their awkwardness is laughably adorable, and she struggles to keep her composure watching the nervous five and six-year-olds.

“ _I'm an awful person_ ,” Therese thinks to herself.

The bleachers of the gymnasium quickly fill with teachers, siblings, and parents. Therese recognizes some faces, but not well enough to strike conversation. She finds a spot on the end of the bleachers closest to the restrooms and exit, and wonders where exactly Carol might be seated. At 6:50pm – ten minutes before the start of the show – Therese feels her cell phone vibrate from the pocket of her jeans. She taps on the screen to open the alert.

**Carol:** _Are you here?_

Therese looks around a few times before responding.

 **Therese:** _Yes, I'm here. In the bleachers. Where are you?_

 **Carol:** _Stuck with an insufferable group of moms. Save me?_

Squinting her eyes, Therese continues to search for Carol across the room.

 **Therese:** _Where are you?_

 **Carol:** _Hallway outside._

As politely as possible, with a chain of “ _sorry_ ”s and “ _pardon_ ”s, Therese leaves her spot on the bleacher and seeks Carol out. Even in heels, Therese is not particularly tall, and she has to stand on her tiptoes just to get a closer look at the sea of faces in the crowded hallway. After a few hopeless minutes, Therese is certain she hears the smooth sound of Carol's voice beside her.

Their eyes meet; amongst the people, Therese would recognize those crystal blues anywhere.

The faintest smile pulls at the corner of Carol's mouth, and although she's enveloped in conversation, Carol is clearly disinterested. “If you'll excuse me,” she apologizes to the group of chatty birds surrounding her.

In private, Therese knows how they'd greet each other, but it's different here, and she instead opts for a friendly squeeze on Carol's forearm.

“Hello, Ms. Belivet,” Carol greets calmly.

Before Therese has the chance to respond, Carol disappears toward the women's restroom adjacent to her. It only takes seconds for Therese to decipher the game in front of her. To avoid suspicion, she waits until Carol disappears around the corner of the single-stall bathroom before following suit. The door is locked when she arrives, but it only takes a half-knock with her knuckle for it to swing open and for Carol to fiercely pull her inside.

When the deadbolt is fastened, Carol descends on her – one hand on Therese's waist with her weight pushing the younger woman against the back of the door. Therese whimpers into Carol's mouth as she claims her lips roughly. The time they have is short, and Carol wastes none of it, tangling her free hand in Therese's hair to tug lightly, exposing the length of Therese's neck when her head arches back.

Simply put, Therese feels positively dizzy.

“I've missed you,” Carol whispers against her pulse.

“It's been two days,” Therese teases.

“Too long,” Carol grumbles.

As quickly as it starts, it comes to an end. Through the door, Therese hears Principal Freeman announcing the start of the show, and while she may not be entirely missed, Therese is confident a certain six-year-old will be devastated if she looks into the crowd to find her mother missing.

“Tomorrow. I'll pick you up. Pack a bag.” Carol pulls away and glances at herself in the mirror, wiping away a smudge of Therese's maroon lipstick that's smeared across her cheek. “Text me your address?”

Therese nods, silent. Carol whisks in front of her without another word, unlocking the door and stepping into the hallway without looking back. Therese gives Carol a few seconds head start. When she emerges, she's unexpectedly greeted by the cold stare of a middle-aged man. Although they've only met once, Therese immediately recognizes him from the portraits she'd admired only a few days prior.

The mere sight of him makes Therese's heart sink.

Rindy's father. Carol's ex-husband.

Mr. Aird.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)


	17. Chapter 17

Although the look on Mr. Aird's face is clearly hostile – the vein on the side of his forehead pulsing as he stares at her, eyes cold and slightly narrowed – he says nothing to Therese. He digs his hands in his pockets and stands in front of her, foreboding, his tall body sandwiched between Therese and any semblance of escape. She nor Carol owes anything to this man, but Therese feels an unexplainable urge to apologize to him, to make amends for a wrong she hasn't committed – that is, against _him_ , at least. Yes, the prospect of fraternizing with a parent isn't exactly going to earn her a glowing remark on her employment record, but if Carol has been truthful, the main looming in front of her has no business meddling in their relationship.

Therese wonders, then, why she feels so terrified of this man standing before her. The grimace on his face make his inner thoughts all too clear. She can vividly picture his gruff voice threatening her with two words: _I know_.

Just when Therese is certain he's about to tell her off, Mr. Aird turns on his loafer-ed heels and stomps back toward the gymnasium. Once a significant amount of distance is between them, she makes her way back toward her seat on the bleachers. Before the first chords of music begin, she scans the room once more for Carol, desperate for that warm smile that always seems to melt away the woes of the world. To Therese's dismay, she's unable to find her, and although she's in a crowded room of hundreds of people, she feels terrifyingly alone. She wills away her anxiety and nerves throughout the concert, steadying her shaking hands by tucking them securely between her knees.

The moment her students step forward and begin to play – a very rough rendition of Baby Beluga – Therese's fears quiet. Even the shyest of the children seem to shine, their whole bodies wiggling to the beat. Their love of art and music makes Therese's heart swell, and by the end of the three minute song, she unashamedly finds herself wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes. The first, second and third graders who play after them are wonderful, but Therese is clearly partial to her own students. When the groups come together at the end of the night to take a collective blow, she cheers for them the loudest.

Once the applause subsides, Principal Freeman invites all of the parents to mingle within the gymnasium and its adjacent hallways once more, as well as enjoy the small variety of drinks and snacks setup in the corner of the room. It's like a stampede, parents and siblings running in all directions to congratulate for a wonderful concert, and Therese decides to wait and avoid the insanity.

Out of practically nowhere, Rindy bounds over grinning ear to ear. She pulls Therese's legs and waist into a crushing hug and squeezes her tight. “Miss Therese, you made it!” Rindy mumbles into Therese's hip.

“You were wonderful, Rindy. All of your hard work really paid off,” Therese compliments, playfully ruffling the young girl's hair. “Where is your mo-” She stops herself when she catches a glimpse of Carol across the room, chatting with a group of similarly well-dressed women and who Therese can only assume are their husbands. Mr. Aird stands uncomfortably close, his arm pulling Carol tight against his side. It makes Therese feel uneasy, but even more than that, _angry_. If what Carol has told her is true, they've been divorced for years, and yet this man has the gall to stand at her side, holding her as though she is his property to flaunt.

Therese watches Carol intently. She smiles politely and engages as necessary, but the rigid nature of her body language speaks louder than any words. Therese imagines herself rushing over and sweeping Carol away – being the hero she's always wanted to be. Instead, with Rindy tucked at her side, she feels positively frozen. The worry and the doubt settle deep with in her, and Therese briefly wonders if this show she sees before her isn't really all that _much_ of a facade. Everything surrounding Carol Aird is shrouded in mystery.

“Miss Therese, daddy says we are going to get ice cream! Would you like to come with us?” Rindy blinks up at her, doe-eyed in only the way adorable children are.

Therese meets Carol's gaze - glassy, grey, and piercing. Carol's line of sight flicks briefly to the man standing beside her, then back to Therese. It's as if Carol can read all the hurt, concern and anger on her face. “I'm sorry,” Carol mouths, the facade cracking for the briefest moment as her jaw quivers once before going back to her performance among the parents and faculty around her.

“Miss Therese?”

“I'm sorry, honey, but I don't think I can go tonight.” Therese looks down and pats Rindy's back. “Why don't you go back to your mom? I think she needs you right about now.”

Rindy nods in agreement, then rushes across the room. When Therese glances back up, it's Mr. Aird who is looking in her direction, daring her to come over. Therese has half a mind to go and punch him square in the face. Furious and a little heartbroken, she digs her car keys from her handbag and slinks through the crowd unnoticed by anyone but the Aird family.

**-X-X-X-X-**

When Therese arrives home, she curls up on the couch and flips endlessly through the cable channel line up. The back of her mind screams for her to call Carol – to just _ask_ her what is going on and, more importantly, what she can do to help her. In every encounter they've had, Carol has always exuded strength and confidence. Tonight, however, showcased an entirely different side of her, one resigning to the “wifely” role society expects of her. Therese finds it difficult – and frankly, uncomfortable - to picture Carol in such a way.

With the awkward encounter, Therese wonders what will become of their impending weekend. Should she even bother packing? Perhaps Carol will reconsider their relationship entirely with her ex-husband's unspoken knowledge of what is between them. It's infuriating to Therese that he could have such a hold on her to dictate in such a way. To Therese's surprise, she finds her vision clouded by angry tears.

A buzz from the apartment intercom interrupts her stewing and contemplation. Therese glances down at her phone for the time and to see if anyone had mentioned coming over – a laughable concept, she reminds herself as she walks to the door. “I think you have the wrong apartment,” Therese says flatly into the box.

“Therese.”

It only takes that one word for Therese to realize who is there. She pushes the button at the bottom of the intercom to let her visitor in. In the few seconds she has, she rushes into the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror, brushing through her hair with her fingers and fixing the smudged mascara beneath her eyes. Therese reaches for her bottle of perfume from a drawer below the sink, applies it sparingly at her wrists and neck, then races back to the door. A single knock signals her guest's arrival. She swings the door open and utters a single-word greeting.

“Carol.”

Carol bows her head. “Can I-”

“Yes, of course.” Therese takes her hand and ushers her inside. Inside the light of her apartment, Therese notices a puffy redness around Carol's eyes and cheeks. She fights back the urge to take the older woman in her arms. “What happened? Are you ok?”

She wants to ask how the hell Carol found her address, but saves the question for another moment in time.

Carol cups Therese's face. “Therese, I am so sorry. Harge is a boar. You must know, Therese, that there is-”

Therese quiets her with a kiss. “You don't have to explain. Honestly. You don't owe me anything.”

“Let's leave tonight, Therese.” Carol runs her hands down Therese's neck, then shoulders and arms before entwining their fingers. With a squeeze, she adds, “Anywhere. You say the word and we will go.”

Therese stutters in surprise. “I-I don't even have a bag packed.”

Carol waves her hand. “It doesn't matter. I will buy whatever you need.”

“Carol, no. You don't-”

“Please, Therese.” Crystal blue eyes glimmer with tears, and Therese can't find it in her heart to argue any longer. She shuffles around the apartment for any necessities – her cell phone, a charger, her wallet, and her house keys – then returns to Carol's side. Wordlessly, she takes Carol's hand and leads her out the door without looking back.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Riding in Carol's car makes Therese feel like a teenager again. Even in the middle of the night, the August air is hot and humid – perfect weather to drive with the car top down and enjoy the breeze. After the initial shock that Carol drives a jet-black Mercedes – which likely cost more than she makes in an entire year – Therese settles into the passenger's seat and closes her eyes, reveling in the feeling of the wind running across her skin and through her hair. She feels alive in a way she's never felt.

Therese – prone to horrible bouts of car sickness – is not one for riding beside anyone. Here, with Carol, the nausea she's used to is replaced with a sense of euphoria. She feels practically high with Carol next to her as they race down the expressway.

When she looks over, Carol is smiling at her, her wind tossed curls blowing beautifully behind her.

“What are you thinking?” Carol asks. She rests her right hand on Therese's left thigh and strokes in circles with her fingertips.

“I can't even...explain it, really,” Therese confesses. “I'm excited, I guess?”

With that, Carol chuckles.

Therese admires the skyline of the metropolis as they inch closer to it. It's picture-perfect, and she briefly regrets not grabbing her professional camera in their whirlwind departure. She makes do with the one built into her phone, holding it slightly above her head to capture the glistening roads and buildings around them.

“Where are we staying?” Therese asks.

Carol smiles. “Have you ever been to the Plaza?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the weekend officially begins! What do you think is ahead for our ladies?
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. I appreciate every single one of you - so thank you from the bottom of my heart :)


	18. Chapter 18

With parking a premium in the city, and the pair eager for some privacy, Carol pulls up to the Plaza Hotel and hands her keys over to the valet. A bellhop immediately greets them on the passenger's side and takes the little luggage they have. “Shall we?” Carol asks, ushering Therese through the front doors with a gentle touch on her back. A bit overwhelmed, Therese simply responds with a nod.

The lobby of the Plaza takes Therese's breath away. They've not even seen their room yet, and already she feels dizzy. To say she's not exactly used to such extravagance would be an understatement. Mouth slightly agape, she admires the series of crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, each more beautiful than the last. When the light catches them just right, it reminds Therese of the glimmer of a Christmas snowfall. She pulls her cell phone from her pocket and snaps a quick picture while Carol speaks with the desk clerk.

By the time Therese returns to Carol's side, the room has been booked. “As always, we hope you enjoy your stay, Mrs. Aird.”

 _As always_. Therese frowns. Unable to help her insecurity, she wonders how often Carol visits for the clerk to say it. Perhaps they'll discuss it later, but fearful it may start their weekend on the wrong foot, Therese shifts her focus to the cost of their room, and the fact that Carol has slyly taken it upon herself to book and pay for the entire thing herself. “Carol, the rooms here cost a fortune. Please let me at least-”

If it's one look that Carol Aird is a pro at, it's a side-eye. The playful curl of her lips and the raising of her eyebrows signal the tone, but Therese logs the look to memory, vowing to never be on the receiving end of a _true_ Carol Aird glare. “Ready to go see the room?” Carol asks, completely ignoring the younger woman's request.

Therese huffs. “We're not done with this conversation, ya know.”

“Whatever you say dear.” Carol winks, then makes her way to the elevator with her purse in hand. Looking over her shoulder, she jingles the room key and adds, “Coming?”

Unable to resist Carol's charms, Therese joins her without another word of protest. The ride up to their room seems (to Therese, at least) to take an eternity. She watches Carol out of the corner of her eye, admiring how flawless she looks at – Therese pauses for a moment to check the time on her phone – almost _one_ in the morning. At the realization of the hour, she finally notices just how heavy her eyelids feel. Her meager attempt to stifle a yawn is still noticed by Carol, who chuckles softly to herself.

“Almost there, sleepy head.”

Before Therese can respond with her own quip, the elevator dings and the doors reveal the lavish hallway carpet leading them to their room. They walk side-by-side without a word, and since she's unsure of their room number, Therese follows Carol blindly. As they move further and further away from the hall of standard rooms, she begins to grow suspicious. “Where exactly are we going?” she asks – curious, but also a little wary.

Carol ignores her. Eventually they stop in front of a room with a uniquely decorated door. It reminds Therese of something out of the 20's in its design. The feeling that she should recognize it nags at the back of her mind. Curious, she waits for Carol to open the door and reveal what exactly is in store for them.

“It's called the Fitzgerald Suite,” Carol explains with her back to Therese as she unlocks the door. When it swings open, Carol ushers her inside. “I hope it is up to your standards, my artiste.”

 _Suite_. The word echoes in Therese's ears. Carol – in all her intrigue and mystery – has booked them a _private suite_. With some hesitation, Therese finally steps inside, quickly – and unexpectedly – overcome with emotion. The décor is something she's only imagined in her wildest dreams. Although not as large as the chandeliers that greeted them in the lobby, she finds the one hanging in the entryway even more breathtaking than the others. Therese reaches out and runs her fingers over the fringe glass, which chimes as each section gently taps the one beside it.

Distracted by the chandelier, it takes Therese a few minutes to notice the hand-selected artwork and portraits lining the walls of the suite. The dark frames make each photograph stand out against the grey walls with white trim. The epitome of 1920's luxury, no detail too small has been spared. It reminds her of the artwork in Carol's hallway, and she wonders whether this was the inspiration for its setup.

As they move from the private living room toward the bedroom, Therese looks down at her feet, admiring the dark hardwood floors that line the entire suite. Black and white rugs accent different sections – for flair and for warmth, as well as to protect the integrity of the hardwood itself; the polish is so thick and glistening Therese can almost see her reflection in it. She is certain she has never seen anything so extravagant up close in her entire life.

Enamored with the design, Therese doesn't notice Carol disappear around the corner to the bed. It takes Therese several minutes to finally make her way there, admiring each and every detail she passes, from the zig-zagged wallpaper to the cast-iron bookends on the magnificent corner bookshelves, stocked with a variety of classic and modern literature. It seems almost impossible to take everything in within the span of a weekend, but Therese vows to commit as much to memory as she's able to.

“Sit with me?” Carol pats on the space next to her at the edge of the bed.

Therese joins her without hesitation.

“Is it everything you wanted?” Carol asks with the hint of a smile.

“Carol, this is...I don't even know how to describe it. It's...” Therese gives her hand a squeeze. “It's amazing and yet it is _too much_.” Quickly – and to not offend – she adds, “I'd have been content with a Motel 6 if it just meant being somewhere with you.”

Carol laughs. “I don't think they have antique mirrors and coffee tables at the Motel 6,” she teases, nudging Therese's shoulder with her own.

“Well, ya got me there.”

Even in their playfulness, the chemistry between them is electric. Therese shivers when Carol cups the right side of her neck and face, using her thumb to stroke along her pulse point. Finally feeling safe within the privacy of the suite, Therese presses her lips against Carol's, claiming them roughly in a way she'd not had the confidence to do before. Sure – she's initiated, but the intensity of this kiss is more bold and breathtaking than any they've shared before, heated but slow and sensuous.

When a knock at the door interrupts them, Therese is so frustrated she could cry.

“It's probably the bellhop with our luggage,” Carol explains. The expression on her face is a little dazed and disheveled as she stands and goes to the door, and although Therese is annoyed by the interruption, seeing the tiny slip in the older woman's always-perfect facade makes her smile. Therese stays at the edge of the bed while Carol converses with the young man standing in the doorway. In her absence, Therese's sleepiness grows more intense. After a few minutes pass, she scoots up the bed and stretches out across the dark grey comforter; the air conditioning is set just right that even in the summer heat, the idea of curling up beneath it isn't so terrible – especially beside a certain someone.

She's not sure how quickly it happens, but Therese falls into that hazy in-between of awake and sleep, only vaguely aware of Carol's return to the bedroom after some time passes. Long fingers run soothingly through her hair, and it conflictingly sets her ablaze and lulls her more.

“My Sleeping Beauty,” Carol says, her voice low.

Therese groggily protests. “Oh, no no, I'm-”

“Shhh,” Carol coos, leaning down to kiss Therese slowly. “Relax, darling. I'm going to shower, ok?”

Without opening her eyes, Therese senses Carol leave as the weight shifts from the bed. She hears Carol fumble inside of their luggage before disappearing into the bathroom. Eventually, she nods off to the sound of running water and the tune of humming from inside the shower.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Therese had only planned to nap until Carol had returned from her shower. When she eventually wakes to find Carol fast asleep beside her, she reaches blindly for her cell phone to check the time: 4:30am. “Shit,” Therese whispers quietly. The scene had been set – so lavish, so romantic – and she'd _fallen asleep_.

Slowly, she unwraps herself from the sheets – which she doesn't recall curling up under – and tiptoes across the room toward their collection of luggage. Therese shimmies out of her tight jeans and top, but quickly remembers that she hadn't had the opportunity to pack anything of her own out of Carol's insistence that they leave immediately. It's too early to venture out for clothing of her own, and she's desperate for something else to wear, so Therese grabs the first pair of pajamas she finds in Carol's bag and changes into them. They're a similar fabric to the ones she'd seen during her first visit to Carol's home, but black instead of red.

More comfortable and oddly refreshed in Carol's clothing, Therese returns to her side of the bed. She holds her breath as she shifts beneath the comforter, trying desperately not to wake Carol, who sleeps soundly with her back to Therese. With her head on the pillow, she watches Carol's shoulders rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Therese wonders what she is dreaming about, or if she'll even remember it in the morning. As Therese scoots slightly closer, she can feel the warmth of Carol's body against hers. There is something intimate and even _erotic_ about their closeness; even fully clothed, the sheer proximity of Carol makes Therese's whole body ache for her.

She knows she could wake her – with a soft touch, or a kiss, or with quiet words whispered hotly in Carol's ear. Instead, Therese only musters the courage to inch a shaking hand across Carol's waist to find one of hers – resting daintily beside her chest – and entwine their fingers together. At first, Carol doesn't respond. Therese closes her eyes and basks in the feeling of soft skin against hers, innocent in its type, but desired nevertheless. In the moments before Therese finally dozes back to sleep, she feels Carol give her hand a brief but meaningful squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)


	19. Chapter 19

A shift in the weight of the bed pulls Therese from her dreams. She cracks one eye open to find Carol lounging beside the coffee table in one of the lavish armchairs surrounding it. A spiral-bound book sits in her lap. Carol fingers aimlessly through it while sipping from a mug that Therese can only assume is coffee from the earthy aroma that fills the suite. The lights remain off, but a small crack in the curtains allows a beam of sun to trickle through and simultaneously illuminate and shadow the artwork that is Carol's profile.

Therese's fingertips ache for her paintbrushes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Carol greets without looking up from the page in her hand.

It makes Therese wonder just how sharp the other woman's senses are, having barely moved or made a sound since waking. Therese stretches slowly, arching her back and cracking her toes. “Good morning.” Her voice, a half-octave lower with sleep, finally ropes Carol's attention over to her.

“I was just reading through the room service. Are you hungry?”

Therese briefly bites her lower lip, holding back the crude comment that is on the tip of her tongue. “Yes.”

“I will call and order us something.” Carol stands, and the ray of illuminating light trickles through the thin fabric of her red robe. Therese can see Carol's full silhouette, tall and thin with a hint of curves in all the right places. There's little left to the imagination and yet, she still seems so elusive and forbidden.

When Carol passes by her side of the bed to pick up the service phone, Therese rises to her knees, the bed sheet falling to reveal the borrowed set of pajamas that are askew from sleep. She hadn't bothered to button the top all the way in her early morning haste, and one side falls over her shoulder to reveal a prominent collarbone. As she'd hoped, Carol stops in her tracks, placing the handset back on the receiver. “Therese,” Carol hums, tracing a nail over the bare skin at Therese's sternum. “I see you found my suitcase.”

Therese stays quiet, looking up at Carol with big, brown eyes that show a perfect mix of innocence and deviousness.

Carol runs her hand over Therese's clothed shoulder, the touch gentle and warm through the silk fabric of the pajamas. “This suits you,” she compliments. “And yet...”

Therese holds her breath as she waits. And yet. _And yet_.

Carol winks. “That reminds me that someone is in need of a wardrobe for the weekend.”

Although the sound of a shopping trip throughout the lavish side of NYC sounds lovely, it isn't exactly what Therese has in mind with Carol at her bedside. She thinks of all the activities they could partake in, right in the solitude of this extravagant suite, that wouldn't require an inch of clothing. And yet, there's a sparkle of excitement in Carol's eyes, and Therese can't find the will to argue. “If you'll let me borrow something for this morning, I can run out and pick something up,” she offers with a quick shrug.

“Oh no, darling.” Carol caresses Therese's cheek. “We'll go together. You'll need something spectacular for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Lifting Therese's head with a gentle pull under her chin, Carol presses their lips together in a slow, sensuous kiss. “In time, dear,” she breathes against Therese's mouth, snaking her hands beneath the smooth, red top to stroke the sensitive skin there. Just as Carol's fingertips dare to travel lower, slipping open the few fastened buttons as she moves, she steps away, leaving Therese trembling at the edge of the bed. “Now, what would you like for breakfast?”

**-X-X-X-X-**

Somehow, the pair manage to finish their meals without devouring each other first. Carol enjoys a second cup of coffee and a small bowl of oatmeal and berries while Therese eats a poached egg and a piece of brioche toast. With the last bite, Carol slowly licks her spoon clean, and Therese can feel every flick of tongue as if it were directly on her. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat and tears at the crust of her bread.

“I have an extra outfit you can wear,” Carol offers, walking over to her suitcase. “They might be a little long, but they should be acceptable until we can get you something of your own.”

As Carol ruffles through the collection of clothing she's brought for the trip, Therese watches inconspicuously from her distance at the table. Each piece Carol tosses in her direction makes her feel slightly uneasy, her own style starkly different from the sophisticated Aird tastes. It's not that she doesn't like the older woman's fashion choices; in fact, the mere sight of her in one of her thin, button-up blouses and a pencil skirt makes her weak at the knees. But copying it makes Therese feel out of her element, like a child in her mother's heels.

“When you're dressed, we'll be on our way,” Carol says, gently urging Therese into the bathroom to change.

Therese closes the door halfway, speaking through the space. “Where are we going?” she asks, shimmying out of the pajamas she'd borrowed and into the clean clothing in her hands.

Surprisingly, it fits her better than she'd expected. Instead of the capri style they were intended to be worn as, Carol's crème colored bottoms fall just below Therese's ankles as a standard pant. She's not always a fan of flower-patterned print, but Therese admires Carol's black and red sleveless blouse that now falls comfortably over her own chest and waist. After hastily brushing the knots out of her hair with her fingertips and swirling some mouthwash at the sink to freshen her breath, Therese returns to the main area of the suite with a shy smile.

Carol meets her in the middle. She remains silent but nods in approval, running her hand along Therese's bare forearm. Desperate for a word – any word – Therese looks at her apprehensively, smoothing an invisible wrinkle at the bottom of the blouse to stop her trembling.

“Lovely,” Carol hums. “Just lovely. Shall we?” She holds out her arm.

Quickly grabbing her purse from where she'd tossed it near the entryway, Therese hooks her arm with Carol's without a moment of hesitation. “Where exactly are we off to?” she asks, her tone playful.

“I don't suppose you've ever shopped on Madison, have you?”

Therese doesn't have to think too hard to find the answer. Almost everything in the city proper is too expensive for her budget. Trips here are few and far between for her, but when she does, she often opts for a street-side hot dog, some clearance merchandise at the department stores, and the occasional wistful window shopping at Tiffany's or Valentino. “No,” Therese eventually answers, “I don't suppose I have.”

Carol simply responds with a smile, lips dressed in that signature Aird red. As they walk down the hallway and enjoy a quiet elevator ride to the lobby, Therese finally notices Carol's own outfit for the day – a pair of tight white pants with a black, shoulderless blouse, accented with a fringe down the side that gives it a sophisticated flair. Of course, she finishes it with a pair of high-heeled, strappy sandals that look stunning but impossible to walk in. The end-of-summer sun beats with full force despite it only being mid-morning, and Carol had clearly come prepared for it, her bangs pinned back with the rest of her blonde waves falling loosely around her neck. Had it taken much effort at all to look so stunning? Therese ponders the thought as they step outside, suddenly aware of the frizz in her hair from the early humidity.

“We could walk,” Carol proposes. “Madison isn't too far.”

Therese looks up at the sun and squints.

“Then again,” Carol continues, “it's rather hot already. By the time we would get there, we might be drenched. A cab, then?”

Therese sighs in relief and offers a thankful nod. “Yes, a cab sounds great.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

When Carol had proposed Madison Avenue as their shopping destination, Therese had only considered the more modest stores among the sea of extravagance. Out of the dozens they drive by, she can only count Victoria's Secret and Ralph Lauren as even being remotely within her pay grade. It's a shock to her when they exit their cab in the center of Madison and Carol suggests somewhere that Therese is certain she's only read about in the occasional copy of Cosmopolitan from the waiting room at her dentist's office.

“Relax.” Carol wraps her arm around Therese's waist and pulls her close. “I know we will find something stunning in here for you.”

As they step foot through the entryway doors of Alexander McQueen, Therese lets out a slow, shaky breath of hesitation and tries her best to relax in the unfamiliar territory. With Carol at her side, it is easier than she'd imagined it would be. Hand-in-hand – the gesture alone perks Therese up considerably – they peruse the various racks, each separated by type. The evening-wear at the far end of the store is, of course, stunning, but Therese quickly sets her sights on a [black, sleeveless knit top with a crew neck](http://www.alexandermcqueen.com/us/alexandermcqueen/top_cod12052709gs.html#dept=wsssl_glr). She searches for a price tag, but is interrupted by Carol, who comes from behind her and scoops it off its place on the rack.

“This would look lovely on you,” Carol compliments.

“It would, wouldn't it?” Self confidence is not something Therese regularly considers herself to have, but she feels oddly excited at the prospect of wearing something so upscale. Her bank account certainly won't enjoy it, but she decides a girl has to spoil herself every now and then.

“Lets find you something to pair with it.” Carol moves over to the other side of the store where the women's slacks, skirts and day dresses hang. “Too hot for leather,” she mumbles under her breath, fingering through several pairs of pants before settling [on low-cut, charcoal jeans](http://www.alexandermcqueen.com/us/alexandermcqueen/pants_cod36970668uu.html#dept=wsssl_glr). “What about these?”

The mention of leather leads Therese into an unexpected daydream, only pulled out of it by Carol's impatient stare. She blinks a few times and returns to Earth with a blush.

The silhouette cut would fit her like a glove. Once again, Therese is unable to find a price despite her sly searching. Carol notices, though, adding it to the collection draped over her arm. “You will, of course, need some evening-wear as well.” Long, thin fingers circle around her wrist and tug her toward the gowns tucked in the corner of the store.

The selection is limited to five or six styles, but each are them are beautiful. Therese is stunned silent, instinctively running her fingers over the smooth material of each dress. Although she'd mostly focused on traditional art in school, she'd had friends who'd majored in design. On occasion, she'd join them in their workshops, admiring the various fabrics and colors, and how each felt in her hands. The accents – diamonds, rhinestones, and crystal – had always been her favorites. It never ceases to amaze her how a shapeless bolt of fabric could turn into something so magnificent.

“Where exactly are we going?” Therese asks, fixated on one [black, satin dress with lace in the center](http://www.alexandermcqueen.com/Item/index?cod10=34799452qx&siteCode=ALEXANDERMCQUEEN_US). It's an absolutely marvelous work of art, and although she finds it difficult to imagine wearing something so lavish, the idea alone gives her goosebumps in the summer heat.

“There is a gallery event on Fifth this evening,” Carol explains. “I thought you might enjoy attending it with me?”

“Oh Carol, that sounds...” Therese manages to tear her eyes away from the dress for a moment to show her excitement. “That sounds amazing, honestly. I can't tell you the last time I attended a show, especially not one that requires something like this.” She points to the gown beside her. “But....I don't think I can afford-”

Carol hushes her. “It's my treat.”

“Carol, I couldn't-”

“Try it on.”

“Really, I-”

Carol tightens her jaw and raises her eyebrows in feigned annoyance. “Will you just try it on? If you don't like it, we can go somewhere else of your choosing.”

Unwilling to argue, especially in public, Therese carefully pulls the dress down from the rack and walks over to one of the two available dressing rooms. “I'll just be a minute,” she says softly to no one, as Carol has already returned to the collection to, what Therese can only assume, find one of her own to wear.

Secluded in the tiny, white and black patterned dressing area, Therese finds it difficult to breathe. It's almost an out-of-body experience as she undresses and slips on the long gown with a heart shaped chest and corseted center. At only a few inches above five feet, she finds it difficult to fully zip the dress on her own, but after some careful maneuvering, she manages to fasten the clasp and secure the gown tightly around her body. With her eyes closed, Therese turns toward the full-length mirror, her heart racing as she counts to five before the “big reveal”.

She barely recognizes herself. Dressed like this, she's no longer the shy girl who is simply stumbling her way through. This Therese is experienced and worldly, invited with open arms into the high society she secretly dreams of in her head. She turns to the side to admire her profile and the way her body looks through the see-through lace at her waistline. For once, she doesn't want to hide her body from an onlooking lover. Hell, she could practically _make love_ in this dress. Therese swirls giddily, admiring the way the fabric swishes and flows back and forth as she moves. Her neck looks long and pronounced in contrast to the low-cut bodice. A swooping diamond necklace and some matching earrings would pair wonderfully, Therese imagines; cubic zirconia would do just as well – no one would ever know the difference with how it would sparkle. Of course, an Aird smokey eye and red lip adopted slightly for the Belivet style would be the ribbon on top. Therese approaches the look as she does any of her artwork – piece by piece, layer by layer to reveal the most breathtaking piece.

Feeling strangely confident in herself, Therese takes a few steps out of the dressing room and cranes her neck to search for Carol. She finds her at the checkout counter, chatting with a cute redhead who is placing the last of whatever Carol has purchased into a white bag with the Alexander McQueen logo printed in black on the side. In the brief time it's taken her to try the twist knot gown on, it appears that Carol has purchased her own dress, but its color and style are hidden behind a white-frosted garment bag.

“Will that be all, Mrs. Aird?” the clerk asks in a youthful, high-pitched voice.

Therese clears her throat to grab Carol's attention.

Carol turns her head toward her, and although she'd felt confident in the solitude of the dressing room, Therese suddenly feels wary with not one, but two pairs of eyes on her. She couldn't care less what the flirty red head thinks, but Carol – well, all of this is to impress _her_. At first, the older woman's expression is hard to read. Her appearance is cool and calm, but her eyes – those piercing crystal eyes – give her true response away, dazzling and sparkling with pride, adoration and excitement. Her mouth curls into a devilish smile, and Therese wonders if this is what it feels like to have someone undress her with their eyes.

“And this.” Carol points to Therese. “We'll be taking this dress as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me. The part I know you're all dying for is coming soon, I promise ;) But as this was inching toward 3000 words, I figured it was a good place to stop. Although this chapter probably adds even more questions, rest assured the next will finally start to answer some....
> 
> THESE GOWNS. Am I right? Just wait until you guys see what Carol has chosen....
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more!


	20. Chapter 20

With their evening gowns purchased, Therese suggests somewhere slightly less expensive to pick up some matching heels and accessories. They eventually settle on Bloomingdale's a few blocks over on Lexington and 59th. Truthfully, it's still a little out of her price range, but better than Carol's suggestion of Louboutin – although she can't shake the image of Carol's long legs accentuated by a pair of their expensive, strappy heels.

Together, they search for the perfect shoe to match Therese's gown. They gather a few options before heading over toward the dressing rooms to make a decision. “Which would you choose?” Therese asks, eyes bouncing between each pair indecisively.

“It all depends on the jewelry,” Carol responds frankly, as though it were blatantly obvious. “If you're going to wear dangles and a necklace, then I would go with a simple shoe. But if you intend to wear studs and nothing else, then you may want to go with a brighter pump or something a bit more bedazzled.” She runs her hand down Therese's arm to her wrist, caressing the skin along the girl's fingers. “What about a bracelet? Do you wear any rings?”

Therese shakes her head.

“Want to go take a look?” Carol nods her head toward the direction of the jewelry section.

Therese follows blindly to the collection of rings, bracelets, and earrings. There's a fine jewelry counter nearby, and she half expects Carol to lead her over and buy her lavish diamonds to go along with the dress that she has little doubt cost any less than a fortune. But, to Therese's surprise, they stay put in front of the columns full of fashion jewelry, some more expensive than others, but still much more in line with her budget than what sparkles behind them.

“What about this?” Carol holds up a [sparkling silver Pandora ring](https://www.bloomingdales.com/shop/product/pandora-sterling-silver-cubic-zirconia-abstract-elegance-ring?ID=2567147&CategoryID=3630#fn=ppp%3Dundefined%26sp%3D1%26rId%3D83%26spc%3D224%26spp%3D15%26pn%3D1%7C3%7C15%7C224%26rsid%3Dundefined).

Therese takes it, admiring the contrast between the square and circle-shaped faux diamonds. She slips it onto her ring finger and holds it out, rocking her hand back and forth so it catches the light. Even though it isn't real, it's truly beautiful, and will make a great addition to her evening-wear. Unlike what she'd seen at Alexander McQueen, the price tags here don't completely take her breath away. “I like it. Will you help me find a matching necklace? And maybe some earrings?”

Carol grins. “I would love to.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

Several hours later, and a few hundred dollars poorer on Therese's part, they finish their shopping trip, their evening ensembles finally complete. Although she's not seen Carol's dress, she paints a picture of it based on the accessories Carol purchased for herself – [silver spike earrings](https://www.bloomingdales.com/shop/product/aqua-sterling-silver-spike-drop-earrings-100-exclusive?ID=2791849&CategoryID=3628#fn=ppp%3Dundefined%26sp%3D1%26rId%3D83%26spc%3D1533%26spp%3D21%26pn%3D1%7C18%7C21%7C1533%26rsid%3Dundefined) and [jet black stiletto pumps with a thin ankle strap](https://www.bloomingdales.com/shop/product/tabitha-simmons-womens-alhambra-satin-ankle-strap-pointed-toe-pumps?ID=2800543&CategoryID=17397#fn=COLOR%3DBlack%26ppp%3Dundefined%26sp%3D1%26rId%3D128%26spc%3D385%26spp%3D62%26pn%3D1%7C5%7C62%7C385%26rsid%3Dundefined); Therese is quite certain she is going to _die_ tonight at the sight of her.

Their bags become difficult to carry around the city, and the pair decide to quickly return to the hotel to drop everything off before heading out to lunch. There are several hours to kill before the gala, and Therese decides they will pass the time with a nice meal out in the city. She's unfamiliar with any of the more upscale venues Carol might recommend, but she knows of one place in particular that should make the sophisticated woman smile at the suggestion.

They arrive at _La Fleur_ a little after 1. The cafe is busy – Therese had expected as much on a Saturday – but they manage to find a private table in the corner, away from the bustle of the register and sweets counter. She glances over the menu while Carol takes in all the options. Everything sounds delicious, but Therese eventually decides upon a fresh squeezed lemonade, half of a turkey club and a small side salad with balsamic dressing on the side. Just when she's about to ask Carol what she will be ordering, their waitress arrives at their table and interrupts with the same question.

“I'll have an iced tea with your strawberry poppyseed salad.” Carol smiles at the waitress as she hands over the menu, then looks to Therese to place her order. Therese can't explain it, but she feels strangely tongue tied in public with Carol when she looks at her like _that_ , with that half smile and those eyes that dazzle and say the most _seductive_ things without a single word. Somehow, though, Therese manages to spit out her selections, relaying it all in one breath to the confusion of the waitress beside them. Carol appears amused – eyebrows raised playfully as she gazes at her from across the cafe table.

“How do you do that?” Therese whispers when they're alone again.

Carol chuckles. “Do what?”

“Just.... _you_.” Therese tries to find the right words, but fails. “You look at me and I just...”

With a softer smile, Carol reaches across the table and takes Therese's hand, squeezing it gently. “Can I share a story with you that might make you laugh?”

Therese nods.

“When we first came here, as I was walking up, I could see you through the window. I took a few steps back and hid at the corner, watching you from the sidewalk. You were reading your book. The sunlight was beating down and it lit your face and Therese, you just....you looked _stunning_. I didn't know what to do.”

At Carol's compliment, Therese feels a deep, hot blush in her cheeks and neck. How had she been so oblivious when Carol had been right _there_ the whole time? Carol, who had sauntered into the cafe that day with such confidence, gorgeous and flirty and so sure of herself. And yet, to hear that she, too, had the first date butterflies. It almost evens the playing field, making the other woman seem a little more human. Therese is suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss Carol – rough, passionately, a kiss that would knock the air right out of her lungs. She looks around them out of the corner of her eyes. It's busy and yet, with their waitress busy pouring cups of coffee at the counter, the focus is completely off of them. Therese scoots her chair closer to Carol and, in a brief moment of confidence, steals a quick kiss. As expected, none of the patrons or cafe staff seem to notice, but the public display of affection still makes her heart race.

In response, Carol leans closer, nuzzling her nose behind Therese's ear. “Do you have any idea how hard it has been all day?” she whispers. “To see you in my clothes. In that gown. How badly I've wanted to kiss you?” She runs a fingernail up the back of Therese's neck. “To touch you?”

When their waitress arrives with their food, Carol returns to the center of her seat, leaving Therese a little lightheaded. If it wasn't already hot from the summer sun, Carol's teasing elevates her body temperature by a solid ten degrees – positively feverish. Therese watches as Carol begins to eat, like two lovers who have been together for years, who can sit in silence at the dinner table together and just admire without a word, remembering how they fell in love and reminded of how in love they still are.

But before they could ever get to that point, ever imagine years together, Therese must find the courage to ask the questions on the tip of her tongue. Terrified to potentially jeopardize what's blossoming between them, she's ignored the nagging in the back of her mind, but the little glimpses into a more vulnerable, honest side of Carol have shown her that maybe, just maybe, the whole thing isn't so scary after all. “Can I ask you something?” She picks at some lettuce with her fork. “Something personal?”

Carol puts down her utensils and looks at Therese, completely focused on the woman beside her. “Sure.”

“I don't want to seem ungrateful,” Therese begins. “Because all of this is amazing, and I'm sure tonight is going to be....well, even more amazing. And our time together has been...well, I never expected it, but it's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.” Nervously, she looks down and stabs at a crouton.

“Therese, dear, spit it out.”

Therese clears her throat. “Well, you know about me. Or at least, a little about me. You know who I am, what I do. A bit of where I come from. But besides how absolutely gorgeous you are, and that you have the most adorable daughter, I don't know very much about you at all.” She chews at the inside of her mouth. “I want to know things about you.” Therese looks at Carol, terrified at what her response might be. To her surprise, Carol bites her lower lip and sinks into herself a bit, the shell of confidence slightly cracked before saying a word. Eventually, she inhales, a slow, deep breath, and Therese knows she's in for a long answer.

“I didn't grow up with much.” Carol's voice is soft and even. “But education was an important part of my life. I was always taught to strive for more, to never take learning for granted. Wherever I went, whatever I did, I always wanted to learn something new. I excelled beyond expectations in school, in ways that defied what others expected of me.” She pauses for a sip of tea. “I graduated early from high school, and immediately went into higher education. I finished my Bachelor's in business administration by 21, and finished my Master's in education administration by 23. I did it all myself. I worked my ass off, at times to my own detriment. But I loved it. My work and my education were my life.” She sighs. “Through my hard work and networking, I accepted a position as Assistant Dean of Students at the same university I had received my own education through.”

Therese is entranced as Carol relays her story.

“Therese, I can't tell you how it felt to be offered the position. I suppose you of all people can understand that a woman in higher places, especially in education, is not always warmly welcomed. Especially not a woman as young as I was. I made many enemies. Many others, much older than me, thought that they deserved my position, that I hadn't worked hard enough for it. Or, of course, the age old story that I'd slept my way to the top.” Carol scoffs. “Slept my way...I had no personal life. _No_ romance. It didn't even occur to me that I was missing anything. I spent all my time at the school and with the students, and I never felt incomplete.” She sighs. “At a university fundraising event, I met Harge. He was working as the superintendent of a local school. He was handsome. Flirty. I wasn't really looking for anything, but I was emotionally vulnerable. I didn't know any better. I'd never really known romance or wooing or....”

Carol's eyes appear glassy with tears. Instinctively, Therese reaches for Carol's hand and squeezes it assuringly, silently urging her to continue while showing her support. To Therese's surprise, Carol doesn't pull away, leaving their fingers entwined in the middle of the table for all to see.

“The same year, our dean unexpectedly had to go on medical leave. It was a mess, but I stepped up and took on the full responsibilities of the dean. I think I did pretty damned well, all things considered.” She swallows a lump in her throat. “Eventually, it was determined that the dean wasn't going to be able to come back. He'd been diagnosed with colon cancer, and his prognosis was not good. We wanted to be sensitive to the situation, while also taking the best steps for the longevity of the school. For most of the administration, it was a no brainer. It was always protocol that the assistant would take over in this type of situation unless there was gross negligence.” She locks eyes with Therese. “There was none, of course. But men in power....they find their ways. In a moment, it was taken from me by someone who...” She wipes a tear away from her cheek with the back of her hand.

“It's ok,” Therese interrupts, her voice soft and soothing. She rubs at the back of Carol's hand with the pad of her thumb. “You don't have to tell me anymore. I understand, and I appreciate your honestly.”

“I want to tell you everything, Therese.” Carol reaches across the table with her free hand and cups the younger woman's cheek. “You are a light in my life that I haven't had in....I don't know that I've ever had a light like you. But I am a guarded woman, and it will take time.” She sighs. “I don't want you to think I am hiding things from you. It is difficult to share things about myself. I have been hurt so badly by people who were supposed to have my best interests, who were supposed to love me.” For the first time in what feels like ages, Carol smiles, and the room – and mood – seems to lighten. “Don't ever let someone take what you love away from you, Therese. In the short time I've known you, I see so much of myself in you. I want to foster it, want to lift you up to be everything you have the potential to be. So if I encourage you, or _spoil_ you” - she waves her hand dismissively with the word - “it's only out of lo-” Carol stops herself short, holding back the word that they haven't dared to exchange yet. “It's only because I care.”

Therese blushes. She tries to find the right words, to thank Carol for sharing her story and for being honest with her. Although the hardened facade is undeniably attractive, she finds herself even more enamored by this version – this _true_ version – of Carol. “Thank you,” she eventually musters with a shy smile. “Just....thank you.”

“There's no need to thank me, Therese. Thank _you_ for spending this weekend with me. I only hope it means as much to you as it does to me.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

When they return to the hotel room, Therese jumps in the shower in preparation for their evening together. She hadn't had time in the morning, and she always finds it much easier to work with her hair when it is fresh and wet. Deep down, she secretly hopes Carol will join her, but the older woman keeps her distance, readying herself at the vanity in the other side of the suite.

As Therese steps out of the shower, she notices her gown hanging on the other side of the bathroom door, along with the collection of bags she'd amassed throughout the day. Carol's makeup kit sits at the corner of the sink. Therese rummages through it to find a comb, and works out the knots while watching herself in the mirror. A collection of jet black bobby pins gives her the idea to wear her hair up, which will show off the earrings and necklace Carol had chosen for her.

Once dry, Therese pulls the tissue paper from one of the Bloomingdale's bags to find the pair of black panties and matching push up bra that she'd purchased from the intimates section. She admires her reflection for a minute, wondering what Carol would think of the getup while secretly hoping she'll have the opportunity to show it off at the end of the night.

It doesn't take her long to dress. She spends the most time on her hair and face, borrowing mascara and Carol's signature red lip from the bottom of the bag at the sink. Having not worn lipstick this bold in quite some time, it takes Therese a few tries to get it perfect, but once satisfied, she blots with a piece of toilet paper and checks her work in the mirror. Not nearly as stunning as Carol will look – of that she's quite certain – but she can't help but admit she cleans up nicely.

Just as she's finished pulling the tag from the back of her recently purchased necklace, Carol knocks at the door and peeks her head into the bathroom. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Therese holds her breath as Carol comes into view. She'd expected her to look gorgeous, but the word barely does her justice. Dressed in a [crimson, long-sleeved gown with crystal embroidery on the sleeves](http://www.alexandermcqueen.com/Item/index?cod10=34799637dh&siteCode=ALEXANDERMCQUEEN_US), Carol is the epitome of beautiful. Her blonde hair frames her face loosely, and the thin spike earrings from their shopping trip dangle down from her ears to the top of her neck. She wears no necklace, but it isn't needed with the way the dress accentuates her breasts through the use of a sharp v-neckline. Of course, she finishes the ensemble with a dark red lip and smokey eyes. The look is seductive yet classy – a vixen in Aird red. If she had her paints, Therese wouldn't have hesitated to ask Carol to pose for her. Perhaps another time, she wonders devilishly to herself.

“Therese, darling, you look...” Carol's eyes move slowly up and down her body. “Breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking.”

Therese offers a smile as she slips a pair of earrings in and slides the Pandora ring onto her finger.

“It just needs one more thing.” Carol steps behind her at the mirror, grabbing [the necklace](https://www.bloomingdales.com/shop/product/nadri-pear-shaped-drop-lariat-necklace-16?ID=1726305&CategoryID=3629#fn=COLOR%3DSilver%26ppp%3Dundefined%26sp%3D1%26rId%3D83%26spc%3D1115%26spp%3D35%26pn%3D1%7C13%7C35%7C1115%26rsid%3Dundefined) resting on the corner of the sink. She unclasps it, then brings it to Therese's neck, their eyes meeting in the reflection at the mirror. The silver is cold against her breastbone, but that isn't what makes Therese shiver. Once it's secure around the back of her neck, Carol tugs at the front of the chain to position the pendant right above the curve of Therese's breast.

The feel of Carol's touch there makes Therese's entire body tingle, and the thought briefly crosses her mind to beg Carol to undress her, forget the gallery and spend the night together making their own art.

All in due time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenote: The fact that the Archive doesn't let you add links that can open in a _new_ tab instead of the _same_ one is very, very annoying. 
> 
> I have had so much fun finding each piece of their outfits. You have no idea! I wish I was much richer so I could buy everything for myself LOL
> 
> Finally, we start to learn about Carol....what do you think the full story is?
> 
> Comments and kudos make the author smile and inspire more!!! I love engaging with you all - comment away!


	21. Chapter 21

A cab arrives in front of the Plaza a little before 7pm. There are plenty of stares and smiles as they walk through the lobby dressed to the nines, but Therese barely notices, fixated on the woman sauntering a few steps ahead in her candy-red gown. Carol holds the back door of the cab open for her, offering a quick wink as she slides all the way into the driver's side.

As they travel toward the gallery on Fifth Avenue, Therese watches out the window, feigning interest in the buildings that pass while her mind is elsewhere, nervous about the night ahead. Although she's been to several gallery events before, she anticipates the crowd to be much different than a group of art students. Their attire and the little bit of background Carol has offered gives her a strong indication that the event will be high-scale and network-driven, and the prospect of it is terrifying. Carol must sense her unease, taking one hand in hers and squeezing reassuringly.

When they arrive, Carol quickly exits the cab and holds the door open for Therese, who steps onto the sidewalk like a movie star, a high-heeled foot and a flash of thigh at the slit of her dress the only visible part of her for a brief moment. She glances up at Carol, whose eyes are fixated on that small sliver of bare skin. A burst of confidence washes over her.

Therese isn't used to being on the arm of someone so beautiful. As they step through the glass doors of the gallery and into the sea of people, the heads of several men and women turn. Not that she can blame them – not in the least. In a sea of black suits and dresses, Carol stands out like a vixen in red, a conflicting mix of angel and devil when her simple jewelry captures the light just so and shimmers, halo-like.

It takes a bit of polite shuffling before they actually make it close enough to the wall for Therese to admire some of the work on display. She's particularly drawn to a medium canvas with abstract faces and bodies painted in robin's egg blue and rouge pink. The bright colors stand out more against the brown base coat spread evenly along the canvas. It's a strange cross between Dali and Picasso that Therese finds herself completely enamored with. If she had any sort of wealth, she would buy it on the spot and hang it in her living room.

“Would you like a drink?” Carol asks quietly in her ear.

“Sure,” Therese answers softly without looking away from the artwork in front of her. When Carol disappears into the crowd, Therese walks slowly along the wall, admiring each piece hanging there. They seem to be part of a collection, a story weaving and unfolding as the colors become more and more vibrant and the canvases grow larger and larger in size. She feels practically swallowed by the final piece, with an almost monstrous yellow form looking down at her with piercing hot pink circles for eyes. A strange mixture of unease and complete adoration pulses through her.

A voice that is foreign to her pulls Therese out of her trance. “It's gorgeous, isn't it?”

“I'm sorry?” Therese turns to see who is standing at her side. A beautiful brunette in a long blue dress smiles at her. She's not always great at reading a face, but she surmises the woman is likely in her late 20's or early 30's. The sparkle in her eyes is either that of excitement or something predatory; Therese has a hard time determining which.

“The painting. It's gorgeous, isn't it? This collection is a masterclass in the abstract. It's hard not to become so acutely aware of yourself – of your body – when you look at it. Every curve and every angle is just so evocative.” The woman laughs softly. “At least, that's my interpretation. What's yours?”

“Oh, I...” Therese lets her voice trail off and glances down nervously at the tops of her heels sticking out from beneath her dress.

“Are you here alone?”

Therese's lifts her head and cranes her neck in the opposite direction, trying to spot Carol over at the bar next to the long table of hors d'oeuvres. “No, I'm actually here with...” She squints and rises a bit on her tiptoes. Finally, she finds Carol a few feet away with two glasses of champagne in her hands. Surrounded by middle-aged men in grey suits, Carol converses politely with them, laughing and smiling at all the right moments. She has such a command over the situation, such control that Therese is overwhelmingly attracted to.

Carol must sense eyes on her. She looks across from her – beyond the salt-and-pepper haired men next to her – toward Therese's direction. Their eyes meet, and deep red lips curl into a smile. She says something that Therese can't decipher from the distance, but in a moment, Carol walks back over.

“I'm actually here with-”

“I _cannot_ believe it. Carol _Aird_?”

Carol's eyes leave Therese to look over at the woman in blue. There's a brief moment of confusion, then recognition, and then – finally – excitement. “Stefanie Lee? Is that you?”

When they embrace and share a kiss on the cheek as a greeting, Therese can't help but feel the tiniest bit jealous.

“How long has it been? Five years?”

“Longer than that,” Carol corrects with a smile. “My god, you haven't aged a day.”

“How is it that you look even more amazing after all these years? Anyone else would be falling apart after dealing with that damned school for years, and yet you-” Stefanie gives Carol's shoulder a light squeeze.

Glaring out of the corner of her eye, Therese turns her body and reaches for the champagne. She grasps the glass tightly and brings the edge up to her lips, ignoring the burn of the bubbles in her sinuses as she drinks.

“What brings you here?”

Carol sidesteps and wraps her free arm around Therese's waist, pulling her close. The mounting feeling of envy trickles away with the warmth and possessiveness of Carol's touch. Therese swears she sees a trickle of emotion wash over Stefanie's face as a result, and although she doesn't really know the woman at all, Therese feels strangely satisfied with her reaction. She leans closer into Carol's embrace and smiles contentedly.

“Therese is an artist,” Carol explains.

“I'm not really an _artist_ ,” Therese interjects. “I'm a schoolteacher. Art is more of a hobby.”

“She's beyond talented,” Carol compliments. “Too humble for her own good. Don't get me wrong, she's a wonderful teacher. My daughter is a little obsessed with her.” With a quick turn of her head, Carol winks in Therese's direction. “Rightfully so, I might add.” They keep angled toward each other, eyes locked. It isn't until Stefanie clears her throat that they look away.

“Well, I can certainly see why Dean Aird speaks so highly of you,” Stefanie compliments with a coy smile. “You know...it's funny we've met here tonight. The gallery is actually searching for someone to lead some classes for 6 to 12-year-olds. If we offer training events, we're eligible for a grant as a sort of educational entity. Plus, we're always trying to foster a love of art from a young age. If you'd be interested-”

“I'd have to think about it,” Therese interrupts. The opportunity honestly sounds amazing, but something about the prospect of working with this woman – who clearly has some history that Therese can only begin to imagine – strongly puts her off. She disappears into her champagne again, finishing off the final few sips at the bottom of her glass. When it's empty, she holds it out in Stefanie's direction. “Would you mind grabbing me another?”

Stefanie eyes her for just a second. Just when Therese is certain she's about to be sized up, Stefanie responds sweetly. “I'd be happy to.”

When the rhythmic click of Stefanie's heels fades and she's far enough away for Therese's liking, Therese tucks her mouth close to Carol's ear and whispers a request. “Can we go?” Although there's the slightest quiver of emotion in her voice, Therese's face is even and cold, mimicking the regal and sometimes icy facade of her date.

“Are you ok?”

The room suddenly feels hot. Although she'd assumed the role with little struggle thus far, Therese feels like a fraud, just waiting for someone in the crowd to point out she doesn't belong there. Although Carol has made her feel like Cinderella, at the end of the day, the glass slippers shatter along with the facade. “Just take me somewhere else? Anywhere else?”

“Wherever you'd like.”

Hidden by the horde of gallery attendees, they slip out of the building and into the night. As soon as the warm city air hits the bare skin on her arms and shoulders, Therese sighs heavily in relief. Without hesitation, Therese turns to Carol, grasps her face with gentle-yet-strong hands and pulls her into a rough, predatory kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> This chapter is a little short, but like I did with my other fic Eye of the Beholder, I intend to follow this up with another chapter very soon. One that might be....slightly....ok....a _very_ not safe for work ;) Comments, as always, make the author smile and inspire more. Did it go as you expected it to?!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear friends - I am so sorry that this took as long as it did. I've had one of the worst weeks at work I've had in quite some time, and had absolutely no time to write. 
> 
> This chapter toward the end is marginally NSFW.

Standing outside of the art gallery with her lips pressed against Carol's, Therese feels like a woman possessed. She's never considered herself a jealous person, but Carol has sparked something animalistic in her. It had almost been lost on her – the tiny jolt of envy in the school gymnasium when Harge showed his face – but when Stefanie had played her flirty little game, Therese couldn't deny the feeling any longer.

She takes Carol's lower lip briefly between her teeth before caressing the swollen skin with her tongue.

“Therese.”

The deep breathiness of the word – her _name_ – makes her ache. Her mouth tingles as Carol pauses their heated embrace to pepper soft kisses along her cheek and jawline. The light pressure there soothes her. She closes her eyes and listens to the whisper of her name as Carol repeats it.

“Therese. Come back to me, darling.”

“I'm here.” And while it's true – physically, at least – Therese knows exactly what Carol's referring to without having to utter another word. When their eyes meet again, there's a silent exchange, the gentle smile and knowing expression on her lover's face saying everything, calming her, leading her off the bridge of her heightened emotions and back into reality.

“Tell me what you need.”

She knows what's meant by it, but Therese can't help but let her mind flutter to something a bit more primal at the request. Yet, she wonders if that would really fix the doubt, whether Carol taking her to bed would finally force the idea into her thick skull that she has been chosen, that Carol wants _her_ and only _her_ , no matter what – or _who_ – may try to weasel their way between them. The thought – and the desire, which she can't push away no matter how hard she tries – lingers as Therese takes Carol's hand and walks toward the glass entrance doors.

Carol stops them, tugging Therese toward her as she takes a step backward. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Therese allows herself a beat. “Stay by my side?”

“Always.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

With Carol's arm snaked around her waist - the tips of her fingers resting just above her hipbone - they return to the main showcase area of the gallery. Slowly, they walk the walls where each collection hangs. Therese admires them as she did before, but she feels distracted, less interested in the paintings and more focused on the stunning woman beside her. She feigns intrigue, but whenever possible, she watches Carol out of the corner of her eye as she looks up at the canvases, her sightline moving back and forth along the various strokes of paint.

“I'm jealous of you artists,” Carol confesses. “You're able to put so much emotion, so much of _yourselves_ into your work. Too few professions allow for that, but this...” She runs her fingers along a thick swipe of raised, orange paint.

Unsure how to respond, Therese simply basks in Carol's radiance. As they step slowly through the crowd once more, away from the current collection of canvases to an entirely new set on the opposite wall, Therese tries to relax, but ultimately can't fight the urge to search for Stefanie. She finds her chatting with a group of younger women on the far left side of the gallery, some distance away. Carol must sense her unease – the way she straightens her spine and visibly tenses – as barely a second later, Carol pulls her closer to her side, leaning in and tilting her head to position her lips at Therese's ear.

“They're all looking at you,” she whispers, a hint of joy and pride evident in her voice despite its hushed tone.

“No,” Therese argues with a blush.

“Oh _yes_ , dear. And who could blame them?” Hidden by the wall of people surrounding them, Carol subtly runs her hand down Therese's back and over the slight curve of her ass. She drags her fingertips along the satin fabric at the back of Therese's thigh, the thinness of the material making Carol's touch easily felt, a spark of heat starting there and working its way through her entire body.

Therese swallows a whimper. As she forces her eyes away from Stefanie and to the rest of the crowd, she notices that many are, indeed, looking at them. Part of her – the straight-laced, toe-the-line part – wants to swat Carol's hand away with so many eyes on them. And yet, there's something incredibly forbidden and erotic about the way Carol's hand wanders over her body, unknown to those across from them but certainly known to her, and Therese can't find the will to ask Carol to stop. When two men step toward them with smiles, she expects Carol to pull away. But she does nothing of the sort, halting the movement of her fingers but leaving her hand at its resting place along the curved outline of Therese's black dress.

“Good evening ladies,” one man greets with a smile, his slicked back hair as greasy as his appearance. Just the sight of him makes Therese feel uncomfortable, but Carol seems unfazed, responding politely with a smile and a quick “hello”.

“Are you enjoying the artwork?”

Carol's gaze shifts from the men across from them to the woman at her side, smiling at her mischievously. “Yes. Yes I am.” As her eyes drag down the length of her, she admires the finest piece of art in the entire gallery – Therese, a vision in satin and lace. The gruff sound of the male voices fades into the background as they bask in each other.

It's almost too much for Therese. In their time together so far – in the stolen moments of heated embraces and passionate kisses – Carol has never looked at her like this. It had been almost instinct before, an undeniable attraction that neither of them could deny. But there's something softer and more adoring in Carol's gaze. It's the sense of quiet adoration shared between two people so enamored, so infatuated with each other, so desperately in _love_.

“If you'll excuse us, gentlemen,” Carol interrupts. She gives no further explanation as she leads Therese to the other side of the room. Moving through the crowd, they stop along the wall in front of a large wooden door. Therese guesses it divides the main gallery space and the smaller rooms for private events and lesser collections. Although she expects it to be locked, Carol opens the door with ease, the click of the handle going unnoticed among the noise of the various conversations carrying on around them.

For a brief moment, Therese wonders what Stefanie would think if she knew they were sneaking around. The thought, however, only urges her on more, and any hesitation she'd momentarily felt slips away as Carol pulls her into the darkness. Before her eyes have a chance to adjust, a warm body presses against her, and while Therese can't see much, she can certainly _feel_ , the subtle curve and contour of Carol's body fitting perfectly against the petiteness of her own as hands and mouths explore freely, hastily, basking in the brief moment of solitude until they will, inevitably, get caught.

For now, though, Therese tries not to worry about it, allowing herself to get lost in the sensation of Carol's lips against her neck where her pulse beats wildly. When Carol sucks the thin, sensitive skin there, she's certain there will be a nice mark for the crowd to see, to silence any doubt as to whose arm she'd arrived on. She typically loathes these types of displays of affection, but something primal in her urges Carol on, running her fingers through the smooth blonde hair that smells sweetly of floral shampoo from the hotel.

“You should never doubt my feelings for you, Therese,” Carol whispers, using the shield of darkness to her advantage as she carefully slides her hand beneath Therese's dress, making contact with the bare skin there as her fingers draw tiny circles along the space between Therese's thighs. “I can't begin to tell you how difficult this has been – waiting for you, wanting you so desperately.” She presses their lips together roughly, swallowing the inevitable whimper of pleasure that trickles from Therese's vocal chords. Carol drags her tongue along the center of Therese's throat, feeling the vibration there as Therese moans deeply from the lightest pressure between her legs, fingers teasing but no more than that.

When silence washes over the crowd on the other side of the door, the conversations coming to a halt, Carol kisses Therese once more on the lips and pulls away. “Speeches,” she whispers.

“We....should go watch,” Therese suggests, breathless, her chest heaving.

“And then?” Carol brushes her thumb along Therese's lips, fixing the smear of lipstick at the corner of her mouth.

Therese smiles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...is essentially Therese's response here, am I right? ;)
> 
> I know I promised some sexytimes in this chapter. We get the start of it, but I solemnly swear the big moment, as they say, is here for our ladies in the next chapter. You can blame real life and work for getting in the way, but I wanted to post something so you all know I am very, _very_ dedicated to keeping this story alive and going.
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more, especially after the craziness of the last few days! You all are wonderful - thanks to all who have taken the time to comment and discuss this silly little story with me :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not safe for work.
> 
> Enjoy, lovelies :)

Before the speeches begin, Carol and Therese quietly sneak out from behind the door, hand-in-hand. There's enough bustle among the crowd for them to go mostly unnoticed, the patrons nearby – who admire the artwork across the walls - completely unfazed by their sudden presence. They pass the setup of champagne and wine as they move toward the center of the room. Therese suddenly becomes aware of how each person holds their own glass to inevitably prepare for a toast – everyone, that is, except for her and Carol. With an expert backstep, she grabs some for the both of them, handing one glass off to Carol as she finds her a few paces ahead in the middle of the gallery.

A man with white hair and thick glasses taps on the top of a handheld microphone, the sound filling the gallery with a loud thump. “Good evening, everyone,” he begins. “I promise to try and keep this short. As you know, these are difficult times for the arts...”

Although he continues on, Therese loses focus, more interested in the stunning woman beside her. Carol's eyes remain forward, listening. Therese isn't certain whether Carol even notices the admirer at her side, or whether she's just an expert at keeping a straight face. She wonders just what it would take to make Carol crack – to break the facade, to elicit an unrestrained whimper. Standing beside her, even in heels, Carol towers over her. Therese uses her height to her advantage, angling her body close without much notice by those around them. As always, Carol appears poised, her spine straight and her jaw tight, enhanced by the stroke of contour at her cheekbones. But in their closeness, Therese can't miss the way Carol's breath hitches – quickly, quietly – as her fingertips trace the sensitive skin at her wrist.

“I would like to toast the staff, the incredibly talented artists whose work is on display, and, most importantly, all of you. Without your support, none if this is possible. Tonight, I toast all of you.” When he holds up his glass, the crowd follows suit. While most toast the gallery and its future, Carol turns and raises her champagne in Therese's direction. She offers a quick smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

Therese carefully taps the side of her glass against Carol's. They each take a polite sip as the rest of the patrons do so, but Therese is more intrigued by the thought of tasting the lingering sweetness of champagne on Carol's lips. When the microphone is handed off to Stefanie, she only feels her hunger intensify. She briefly locks their fingers together, squeezing for the attention of the woman at her side. In an instant, their eyes meet, and they exchange a knowing glance, the sparkle in Carol's eyes and the blush on Therese's cheeks speaking volumes about the undeniable desire and tension between them.

Without wasting another second, as Stefanie begins her own speech, Therese leads them quietly toward the exit. This time, though, it isn't out of jealousy or insecurity. The doubts and the fears will - someday - rear their ugly head again, but for now, she pushes them away, focused only on Carol. Hand-in-hand, they step to the edge of the sidewalk and into the street, where they wave down a cab with ease. Carol ushers Therese into the back seat with a gentle caress at her waistline, skin-on-skin where the lace of her dress allows.

Although the drive back to the Plaza is barely more than a few blocks, the cab seems to inch back at an excruciatingly slow pace. Perhaps she's just feeling impatient, or her need for Carol has finally reached its peak, but Therese can't wait any longer, sliding her right hand over to caress the fabric of Carol's dress at her thigh. Carol doesn't turn to her, choosing to instead watch out the window as they move closer and closer to their hotel. In any other circumstance, Therese would feel slighted, but she knows this game because she's _been_ there, desperate to compose herself until the moment is right.

When they return to Fifth Avenue, Therese plays it cool, making pleasantries with the driver and civilians that pass them on the street as Carol settles the fare. She could easily pounce as Carol turns to her and the cab drives away, quickly lost in the sea of New York City traffic. But they feign innocence once more, as though they haven't been teasing each other endlessly not just this evening, but in all the moments leading up to this point.

“Shall we?” Carol asks.

As if it were even a question. Stepping through the lobby with Carol at her side, Therese wonders if she's the only one who can feel the excited energy in the air, tickling at the bare skin at her shoulders and neck and _elsewhere_ , in places she can only fantasize about as the elevator lifts them up several floors. Therese expects herself to lose every ounce of control she has as Carol presses her key into the lock and swings the door open.

Throughout their cab ride, Therese had imagined this moment, pushing Carol against the wall and kissing her roughly, undressing her to reveal the assuredly stunning figure underneath. Instead, they step into the room together, leaving the lights turned down as they enter, but the pair remain still as they reach the end of the hallway where the bed and lounge area meet. The city lights shine through the window where the curtains are drawn, casting Carol in a long shadow that hides the features of her face but draws attention to her silhouette. Therese, enraptured, wants nothing more than to memorize the outline of Carol's body with her mouth and hands. Overwhelmed with inspiration at the sight of her, Therese feels desperate for her camera. Posed at the window, Carol is a work of art, a portrait of royalty in crimson and shimmering diamonds.

Therese settles on her cell phone, pulling it from the purse at her shoulder. She opens the camera app and snaps a picture. The click alerts Carol, who turns to her.

“I'm sorry, I should have asked-”

Carol shakes her head. “It's ok.”

“Really?”

Carol chuckles. “Yes, dear.” She lifts her chin toward the light. “How's this?”

Therese smiles, tapping at the center of the screen to focus the camera lens. “Almost perfect. Except...” Setting her phone down on a nearby end table, she moves slowly toward where Carol gazes out the window. It takes a moment for her to muster the courage to be bold, but with a deep breath, Therese finds her confidence, reaching a hand out to brush Carol's loose curls to one side to reveal the length of her neck. “I think it would look even better if I could get you from just the neck up. Would you mind if I...” Therese hooks her finger under the fabric at Carol's shoulder, tugging down.

“Be my guest.”

With shaking hands, Therese takes the zipper at the back of Carol's neck between her thumb and index finger and pulls down. As the dress loosens, Therese slips her hand beneath the red material and against Carol's bare shoulder. It doesn't take much to tug the top of the gown down, where it collects just above Carol's chest, revealing thin lingerie that makes Therese shiver at the sight of it. She pushes the straps of the bra down but stops there. As her hand brushes across the front of Carol's shoulder, Therese can feel the faint rhythm of the woman's heartbeat and a shiver across her skin. “Is this ok?” she whispers against the back of Carol's neck.

“Yes.”

Therese steps back and picks up her phone once more. She pinches the screen with her fingers, zooming in toward her subject's face and shoulders. Once the lens focuses again, she taps the button at the bottom and snaps a series of images, each one more beautiful than the next. Although the contrast is high in the darkness, Carol's beauty is easily recognizable among the shadows. It's _just_ erotic enough, hinting at the nudity below the neckline – the promise of something more – while forcing the audience to keep at arm's length.

As the artist, though, Therese has access to so much more. Throughout her college career, she'd always been encouraged to study her subjects, to become so focused and in tune with them that the art comes as naturally as breathing, as though it came from her own soul. And so Therese decides to do just that, tossing her phone aside to return to the window, pressing her body against Carol's back. The weight of her forces her lover forward against the glass, Carol's hands splaying across it.

“Therese.” In the privacy of the suite, Carol doesn't hide this time, her voice no longer a whisper but a moan, and the sound of it alone could bring Therese to her knees. Slow and sensual, Therese caresses the side of Carol's neck with her mouth, teasing the skin there as her fingers slide along the spine of the red gown. With the zipper undone, the dress falls effortlessly into a pile on the floor. The newly revealed skin down the curve of Carol's back makes Therese's heart race, everything seeming so much more _real_ as she takes in the long, thin body in front of her.

Although she thoroughly enjoys the brief bursts of control, Therese is relieved when Carol turns. Their eyes meet, and Carol stalks her like prey, biting her lower lip as she saunters forward, forcing Therese away from the window toward the bed. The thin, black stilettos accentuate Carol's legs as she moves forward, the muscles at her calves flexing as she walks, and Therese feels desperate, as though she is suffocating without Carol's body against hers. Therese tries to kiss her, but Carol pulls away with a coy smirk, her fingers drumming at the heart shaped bodice of the younger woman's gown. With the way Carol looks at her, Therese expects some sort of seductive foreplay of words, but silence crackles loudly between them. With a manicured nail, Carol traces along Therese's cheek, brushing over the prominent dimple there before dipping down the length of her neck. “Spin,” Carol instructs with a twirl of her index finger.

Therese complies without a moment of hesitation. With her back turned, she feels Carol's hands on her, one at her waist while the other swiftly pulls at the zipper of her gown. She gasps in surprise as Carol presses herself against her and reaches forward, bunching up the length of the black dress at Therese's hip to dance over the skin beneath. With a twist of a wrist, a hand finds its way to the warm space between her thighs.

Therese finds herself spun again. Carol takes the younger woman's hands and drags them over her own body, begging in the only way she will allow herself to. Words have betrayed her in the past but touch – delicious touch – says exactly what it needs to. And although she can certainly be naive at times, the plea isn't lost on Therese, stroking the subtle curve at Carol's hip before stealing a kiss, alternating back and forth between soft pecks and desperate caresses with her tongue. Her hands shake – just slightly, but enough for her to recognize it – as she reaches lower, finally daring to touch Carol where she's wanted to most. The thin, black lace is hardly a barrier, and Therese's fingers easily brush past it, skin on fire as she feels the wetness there.

For a brief moment, Therese's doubts slip away, the evidence of Carol's desire for her sparking a flame she's never experienced before. It's a strange concoction of pure, animalistic lust and tender passion. She's dreamt of making love to Carol – soft kisses, gentle caresses, worshiping every inch of skin with a gentle tongue – yet there's another side of her desire in this moment, the one that wants to push Carol on her back and ravish her, roughly, encouraging the whimpers and moans, begging as she repeats her name over and over, bringing her to the edge only to pull her back tortuously until she finally allows her to crest, to tumble over with no restraint, in the end left trembling, shivering, yet wholly satisfied.

Then Carol kisses her, leaving her breathless, and any well laid plans are thrown aside as deft fingers undress her, the lavish gown a distant memory as the control shifts back to Carol when she leads her to the bed, pushing Therese down onto the mattress. As Carol lays her body on top of her, their legs tangling together instinctively, Therese theorizes that there have never been two lovers in the history of time who fit more perfectly together – not only physically, but emotionally.

“Tell me, Therese. Tell me what you want.” Carol rocks forward, the pressure of her thigh eliciting a strangled whimper from the young woman beneath her. As Therese arches upward, Carol's hands find the clasp at the middle of her spine, unfastening it to toss the lace aside and ravish the newly bare skin there. Carol's tongue drags along one nipple, then another, eyes cast upward and locked with Therese's as she teases, reveling in the look of pure pleasure on the girl's face as her body burns yet shivers beneath her mouth and hands.

Speaking becomes increasingly difficult with Carol's tongue on her, but Therese still manages to answer her, boldly and honestly. “I want you to touch me.”

As Carol kisses down her stomach, Therese feels almost dizzy, consumed by pleasure from only the slightest contact. The chill of the heavily air conditioned suite coupled with the warmth of Carol's breath makes Therese gasp as Carol fully undresses her, tossing the lingerie beside them at the end of the bed. In an unexpected move, Carol continues downward, starting a chain of open-mouthed kisses at Therese's hipbone before moving lower, between her thighs, at her knee, along her calf and finally to her ankle. Carol pulls the black pumps from Therese's feet and tosses them aside, kissing her way back up until she stops at Therese's thighs. “Spread your legs,” Carol directs, her voice low and seductive.

Reaching down, Therese tangles her fingers in Carol's hair and complies, shifting her hips to give herself fully, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of her lover's mouth and hands. The entire night's worth of teasing touches and stolen glances is more than enough foreplay; Carol's mouth and fingers find her wet and desperate. As Carol's tongue dips and dances in delicious circles, Therese can feel the hum of a satisfied moan against her clit, vibrating up to her stomach and down to her toes. She takes Carol's fingers with no resistance, strong and skillful as they move deeper and arch upward to match the rhythm Carol has set with her mouth.

Therese has never been vocal in bed, resorting to soft whimpers and the occasional breathy moan. But the way Carol fucks her, with a balance of adoration and rough instinct, coaxes something new from her. She pulls at the blonde waves in her left hand and grasps the bedsheet desperately with the other, grounding herself as the mounting euphoria lifts her higher. Therese's eyes clench shut, the specks of red and orange and white fireworks dancing in her mind until Carol stops, shifting herself so they are face to face once more.

“Look at me.”

Therese opens her eyes. She barely dares to blink as Carol brings her free hand up to her face, brushing a thumb along swollen, makeup-smeared lips. Carol's pace quickens between her legs, rocking against Therese's thigh as she adds another finger. Feeling bold, Therese opens her mouth and takes Carol's thumb between her teeth, letting it rest there with the slightest pressure before swirling her tongue around it.

“Therese,” Carol practically growls. She moves her hand down from Therese's face to her neck, tracing back and forth where her vocal chords vibrate and her pulse jumps as Therese moans, loudly, the soft pressure at her throat the perfect contrast to the thrusting between her legs.

“Carol, I-” Her voice cracks as she searches for the words, to relay she's close – so _incredibly_ close – but Therese doesn't need to say anything, because Carol knows by experience and instinct, the breathiness and the tightness and the trembling all telltale signs of Therese's impending crest and fall. In the final seconds, Therese brings Carol's face close to hers and kisses her slowly, tenderly, until her mouth falls open and her body submits completely, her back arching as she allows the string of moans and cries to fill the room, praising Carol with a repeating “yes” as her orgasm consumes her. In the midst of it all, Therese utters the three words they haven't yet shared. She could blame it on the emotion of the moment, that she'd blurted it out subconsciously, but that would be a lie, and so she says it freely, still catching her breath when Carol kisses the corner of her mouth.

“I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
> This has been a horrendously difficult last few weeks, so your comments are appreciated even more than usual! I hope it was worth the wait ;)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.
> 
> Because everyone needs a short nugget of sex every once in awhile, right? ;)

They lay together in the dark for awhile, with Therese's head buried in the nape of Carol's neck. It's as if all of the breath in her lungs had been drawn out by Carol's ravenous kisses, yet the feeling is strangely exhilarating, like the moment of thrill and adrenaline at the top of a roller coaster – the seconds of paralyzing hang time before rushing down the first hill. A shiver jolts through Therese's body as Carol strokes the skin at the back of her neck. It's slow and soothing, methodical in its pattern, and both calms her body and sets it on fire.

As Carol's fingertips move further down her spine, Therese's hand shifts in kind to caress the curves along the older woman's hip and thigh; the startled gasp that follows only urges her on more. With her face perfectly placed there, Therese kisses along Carol's neck – slow and purposeful, each stroke of her tongue and gentle nip with her teeth making Carol writhe beneath her, her chest heaving and hands trembling at their place on Therese's back. With such a guarded facade, Therese wonders whether she will ever be able to truly break through it - to bring Carol to her knees, to make her shiver and whimper and come with a cry of euphoria. She half expects Carol to roll her over and swat her hand away as it travels lower, forcing the control to remain solely in her hands. But Carol does no such thing, her body instead relaxing into Therese's touch.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Carol whispers. Her hands snake into Therese's hair as the girl's head dips lower, from the nape of her neck down to her collarbone before settling just above the lingerie across her chest.

Therese pushes the thin lace at Carol's hips aside. A blush creeps across her cheeks at the wetness that greets her there. “I think I have some idea,” she hums against Carol's sternum.

With a gentle tug of Therese's hair, they're suddenly face to face, sparkling eyes meeting amidst the darkness. “If I said I've been desperate for you since this morning, that would be a lie,” Carol whispers.

Therese doesn't even have a chance to feel incensed before Carol continues.

“It hasn't been since this weekend. Or since I gave you the key to the studio.” She arches her back and rocks her hips, forcing slightly more pressure as Therese's fingers continue to rest between her legs. “I've wanted you since that very first moment in your classroom. In your black heels and skirt and that cream sweater. You had that shy little smile, but I knew there was so much more behind it.” Carol shifts so she can slide her own hand between them to circle and tease in her own way.

Therese wonders if Carol is always like this – seemingly taking control even at her most vulnerable. Her words are hot as hell – that much is true – but Therese wants Carol to submit to her, to lose herself in every touch and caress. An almost bruising kiss silences her, and when Carol tries yet again to regain a semblance of control – an impulse Therese isn't even certain she's aware of – she pins her lover's wrists over her head, holding them securely at the headboard with one hand; Therese is frankly shocked by the strength and coordination she's found in the moment, but tries to play it cool as Carol blinks up at her with a sultry-yet-surprised expression.

Although she finds Carol's bedroom talk to be an overwhelming turn on, Therese decides to rely on her _actions_ and not her words as she pushes two fingers through the wetness at her hand. They've teased each other long enough over the night, and Carol is more than ready, spreading her legs wide and moaning low in a way that could make Therese come from the sound of it alone. The pace they adopt is quick and rough, the both of them panting as their bodies move together, Therese shifting her weight back and forth as she balances between deep thrusts and keeping a hold of Carol's wrists at their place among the pillows and headboard.

“Harder,” Carol pleads.

Therese's mouth returns to Carol's pulse as she adds a third finger and thrusts her hand upward, coaxing a string of indiscernible-yet-delicious noises that vibrate against her lips. The pale skin at the center of Carol's neck turns a beautiful shade of red and purple as Therese sucks and nips at it, the perfect balance to the aching pleasure building between her legs. “You are so beautiful like this, you know,” Therese compliments.

“Like what?” Carol's voice cracks and falls into a whimper.

“Spread. Naked. Wet. So pretty. I could stare at you for hours like this.” Therese slows her pace, opting for longer strokes that elicit the most delicious sounds from beneath her. “Would you let me someday? Just watch you?”

“Christ, Therese.” Carol's mouth falls open, and Therese moves away again to admire it – the 'O' shape, and the smeared lipstick, and the way her bottom lip is slightly swollen from the heat of their kiss. The urge to photograph her is overwhelming once more– to capture the exact moment Carol Aird comes undone with an arch and a strangled cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure smut, but delicious smut, right? Their weekend comes to an end in the next chapter, but there is so much more ahead for our ladies. We are back in Canvas-land for a bit, dear readers, so buckle up and prepare for the worst! :D 
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. What would you like to see as the ladies return back to reality?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I am so sorry for the delay in this. I was so excited to dive full force back into this, and then life got in the way once more.
> 
> For those of you who don't know, I don't work in anything related to writing or creative arts. I work in a very stressful IT job in computer programming and was responsible for a huge, unexpected security-related task over the last week that has had me INCREDIBLY busy. BUT that is over with and I'm just back to my _normal_ insanity, and can put more focus into this fic.
> 
> So, without further ado, enjoy this chapter!

It's Therese who wakes first early the next morning. Although she'd fallen asleep in Carol's arms, they lay apart now, the bed sheet draped loosely over each of them. It covers more of her than it does Carol, who sleeps on her stomach with her face turned away. Blonde hair falls over her neck and across her pillow, and while it isn't the perfectly-sculpted look that Carol prides herself on, Therese finds her even more beautiful than before, the vulnerability of her disheveled look and naked body offering a new perspective. In the veil of darkness, she'd revealed small pieces of herself – raw and slightly bruised – and Therese wonders if the daylight that slowly trickles through the space between the curtains will cause Carol to retreat into herself once again, or whether it signals the dawning of something new.

Carol shifts in her sleep, stretching her legs and pulling the sheet down her back and hips in the process. The air conditioning runs steadily throughout the room, and although the temperature creeps up as the sun rises, there's a chill inside that makes Therese shiver beneath the thin cotton. She contemplates pulling the sheet back up to cover Carol, but selfishly decides to stare at her naked body instead, her sculpted shoulders and the stunning curve of her spine completely impossible to ignore. In the darkness, she hadn't truly been able to admire the way she'd wanted to, but the morning offers her the opportunity she's missed. Carol had looked absolutely stunning in her form-fitting red gown, but Therese realizes that it is nothing compared to the way she looks now – completely exposed.

With the gentlest of touches – so soft, it couldn't even be described as featherlight – Therese traces along Carol's shoulder, circling over a series of freckles she'd never noticed before. Something about them makes the woman beside her seem more human.

After a few minutes more of adoration, Therese tiptoes out of the bed and finds her way to the bathroom. She pokes her head into the shower and twists the knobs that bring a stream of water to life above her. While it warms, she uses the toilet and brushes her teeth before stepping into the tub.

Therese sighs contentedly as the hot water soaks her hair and trickles down her back and face. She follows her standard bathing routine, shampooing and conditioning her hair, followed by a quick lather of soap down her body that makes her wistful for Carol's skin to be pressed against hers again. As she turns to face the shower head and the water falls over her face and neck, Therese closes her eyes and allows herself a brief moment of reflection and thought. With their weekend away nearing its end, there's a feeling of melancholy deep within her. She wonders if this time together has made things better, spurring a budding relationship forward, or whether they've only complicated things more.

A hand on her back interrupts her. The logical side of her knows who it is, but it catches her so off guard that she sucks in a mouthful of the water trickling over her face, launching herself into an embarrassing coughing fit. “You scared me,” Therese chokes out.

“That certainly wasn't the way I meant to greet you this morning,” Carol teases. When Therese turns, she caresses the girl's face, gently pushing back the wet, brown hair stuck to dimpled cheeks. “Mind if I join you?”

Like an impulse, Therese moves to her. She wraps her arms around Carol's waist and steps forward, skin-to-skin once more. Hot water pours down her back and legs as she rests her head against Carol's shoulder and closes her eyes. It's a moment of perfect serenity – quiet and soothing. If she could, she would stand together with Carol forever, never going back to the routine and drama of small town life.

“What are you thinking about?” Carol asks as she strokes Therese's hair and back.

“It's nothing.”

“Darling, I can practically _hear_ you thinking.” With the tip of her index finger, she playfully tickles behind Therese's ear.

“Last night you said you loved me. Did you mean it?” Therese opens her eyes but keeps her head still, unable to face Carol and the potential disappointment from the answer to her question. When Carol doesn't immediately respond, Therese tenses and attempts to pull away, only to feel arms tighten securely around her waist.

“There are many things in my life and about myself that I am not proud of. I don't always act the way I should, or say the right things. But I would never lie about my feelings for you.” Carol takes a small step back and gently lifts Therese's head by her chin. “What can I do? What can I say for you to believe me?”

“I'm scared,” Therese confesses.

“Of?”

“When we're back home. What's going to happen? Are we going to go back to having to act like we barely know each other? Stolen glances and rendezvous are fun but I...after this weekend I...I'm not sure I can just go back to that.” When Carol tries to interrupt her with an answer, Therese continues on. “I know we barely know each other. But this feels like so much more than an occasional good time.”

“That's because it is,” Carol agrees.

“And what about your husband-”

“ _Ex_ -husband,” Carol corrects, her tone cold.

And with that, Therese feels a dreaded sense of regret as Carol stiffens against her. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin this weekend with her insecurities. Truthfully, she wasn't even going to voice them, instead planning to swallow the feeling of unease and uncertainty churning in her stomach and chest. As Therese feels Carol pull away, she holds on to the older woman for dear life, burying her face into her neck as her emotions overwhelm her. “Oh Carol, please don't,” she cries. “Please don't leave. Please don't shut down. I don't know what I would do.”

“Therese...”

But there's little opportunity for words when their lips meet, tentative and soft at first, but quickly shifting to something desperate and urgent. Although Therese starts the kiss, it's Carol who deepens it. Steam fills the shower and makes Therese feel positively dizzy, although she can't be 100% certain whether it's the heat or the result of Carol's mouth and hands stroking her wet skin. When Carol pulls away for a breath, their eyes meet amongst the haze and they stand still – smiling, admiring.

If she'd looked less guarded before, Carol looks even more raw now, her blonde hair several shades darker from the water. A trace of mascara from last night stains below her eyes, and the heat of the water makes her shoulders red and blotchy. Therese wonders if Carol realizes just how beautiful she is – without the facade, without the fancy clothes and jewelry. In the seconds before a hot mouth descends on her once more, she makes a note to someday get Carol in a pair of sweatpants, an oversized t-shirt, and _nothing else_.

Therese hardly considers herself coordinated, but she somehow manages to swap their positions without falling flat on her face. When Carol tries to turn to face her, Therese closes the gap, their hands linked from above as she directs Carol to face the wall with her palms splayed there. As the water falls over them, she focuses on the sensitive spot at the back of Carol's neck, pushing soaked hair aside to run her tongue over the spots where droplets trickle and collect before traveling slowly down the length of her long spine. Therese bows her head and follows the start of its trail, kissing across her shoulder – stopping at the collection of freckles she'd admired earlier in the morning – and down her back.

“Say it,” Therese begs, kissing Carol's neck once more. She moves one hand over Carol's hip, stroking the delicate curve there before dipping her hand down between the wall and her thigh.

“I love you.”

It's barely a whisper, yet Therese is addicted to the sound of it.

“Again.”

Carol turns her head over her shoulder. “My, you are a demanding one.”

“Would you have me any other way?”

A devious smile precedes Carol's response. “I'd have you _many_ ways. Here. The car. In my bed.”

Therese shivers, caught off-guard. In _her_ bed? The closest they'd come to that was one visit, which Carol herself had cut short. And while she imagines the plenty of delicious things they could do in Carol's bed – no doubt king-sized with expensive Egyptian cotton sheets – there's something desirably domestic about the thought of just _sleeping_ with Carol in _her_ bed. Therese pictures her in red silk pajamas and thick-rimmed glasses, reading a juicy romance novel in bed by the lamplight with her blonde hair pinned up in a small, messy ponytail. The purity and simplicity of it makes Therese's heart race with desire for it – not necessarily for sex in this moment, but just to be close to Carol in the ways she doesn't allow anyone to be.

Therese wraps her arms around Carol's waist from behind and lowers her cheek to rest against her shoulder. She's never really been given the opportunity to hold this woman, not _really_ hold her, and so Therese closes her eyes once more and takes joy in the feeling of her, of the rise and fall of her breathing with their bodies pressed together. When had Carol last been held – _really_ , consciously held? Therese asks herself the question when Carol begins to tremble slightly in her arms, as though her body doesn't really know how to respond to something so intimate yet innocent. As they stand together, she senses a sudden shift in Carol's breath as it hitches slightly. With her head bowed, Carol hides behind the stream of water above them, but the redness of her nose and eyes give her away when she turns her face to her.

“You will be my undoing, Therese Belivet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therese seems to be breaking down some of Carol's walls, slowly but surely.
> 
> Oh! Another note that I do realize I didn't respond to everyone's comments as I typically do in the last chapter. That is once again due to the craziness of the last 2 weeks, but rest assured that I intend to go back and respond to each of them (and any received here too), so I promise I have read them and adore each message I've received. You all are wonderful.
> 
> And, as always, comments make the author smile and inspire more :)


	26. Chapter 26

It wasn't Therese's intention to shift the mood with her questions, but as they begin packing for home, Carol is depressingly despondent. While she folds their dirty clothes, tucking them neatly into the corner of her suitcase, Therese rips the tags off of her new jeans and slips them on; they unsurprisingly fit her like a glove. Holding a red tank top in her hand – a cheap cotton piece she'd bought on clearance during their shopping trip – she waits for Carol's attention to turn to her to admire her toplessness. Still, Carol remains intensely focused on her task, completely ignoring the young woman beside her.

When she folds the same pair of pants three times, Therese steps forward and gently takes it from her. “Are you ok? Can I-”

“I'm going to go out for a smoke.” Carol steps back and grabs her purse, all-the-while purposefully avoiding eye contact. “I'll come back with some breakfast.”

Without another word, Therese finds herself alone in the hotel room, which suddenly seems overwhelmingly larger than it had before. She contemplates running after her, but finds herself frozen in place, standing in front of their suitcase with the red shirt and Carol's pair of pants still in her hands. Overwhelmed, she sinks into a seated position on the mattress, shoulders slumped.

What has Carol been through to close herself off so quickly? Therese asks herself the question as she reminisces over the last few days. They'd teased each other back and forth, and the romance had come so naturally. The love she feels scares her, especially in such a short period of time, and Therese wonders whether it's Carol's own version of a similar fear that makes her hesitate at the first glimpse of something deeper.

If others have betrayed or abandoned her, Therese makes it her mission to convince Carol that she won't. No longer stuck in place as a rush of adrenaline pumps through her, she throws the tank top over her body, grabs one of the room keys and runs out the door.

**-X-X-X-X-**

As she steps through the front doors of the Plaza, Therese catches sight of Carol. About twenty or thirty feet down the sidewalk, she leans against the side of the building with a cigarette perched between her middle and index fingers. Smoke curls around her and into the air. The heavy New York crowds pass by her without a second glance, which Therese can barely comprehend. The sunlight catches the top of her blonde hair and makes her practically glow, contrasted beautifully by the dark wisps framing her cheeks. Carol brings the cigarette to her mouth, inhaling slowly. Therese watches, fixated on the other woman's lips as she eventually exhales. How, Therese marvels, anyone could even fathom looking away?

“You didn't have to come after me.” Despite the flatness of her tone, Carol's mouth curls to form a small smile at the sight of Therese as she moves closer.

“You would have done the same.” Therese steals the cigarette from Carol's fingers and takes a slow drag.

“Perhaps.” When Therese raises an eyebrow, silently calling bullshit, Carol responds with a wink. And while the playfulness of their body language is a welcome relief, the seriousness of the situation still lingers. Carol carefully takes back the cigarette from Therese's hold, then tosses it to the ground and puts it out with the toe of her shoe.

Their eyes lock.

“I don't know how to be a good significant other,” Carol confesses. “I can do the passion, the romance. That part I've learned how to do, but the relationship part.” She sighs. “I want to. I want to try. But darling, please don't hate me if I'm terrible at it. I'll likely do all the wrong things before I do even one thing right.”

“Kiss me?” Therese rocks forward, giving herself a little leverage in spite of the several inches Carol has on her.

“Kiss you?”

“Yes. Right here. Please?” With everything behind closed doors – in secret hallways or dark, gifted studios – Therese simply wants something public and _real_ , to show that Carol isn't ashamed to be with her. She stands firm as she waits for a response – whether it's the gesture she wants, or simply packing up and leaving, she's desperate for _something_ to happen.

If Carol were to oblige her at all, Therese expects nothing more than a soft peck on the cheek. In proving her affection, Carol goes beyond that, kissing Therese in a way that is both rough and gentle – loving and needy. While one slender hand cups her jaw and neck, the other tangles in her still-slightly-damp hair to pull them closer. People walk by – surprisingly unfazed by their display – but Therese barely notices, consumed by everything Carol, by the softness of her lips and the smell of her skin to the way her tongue slips into her mouth and moves with hers, unrehearsed yet effortless in finding a rhythm that sparks every nerve and makes each inch of her desperate and _hot_.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Their car ride home is quiet, but the cloud of tension is thinner. As they wind along the road, Carol reaches for Therese's hand, bringing it to rest on her thigh where she can caress it as they drive. The air conditioning blows a steady stream of cold throughout the front seat, but each time Carol's thumb strokes over the top of Therese's hand and down across her wrist, the temperature soars again and sweat tickles at the back of her neck.

Reality finally sets in when they pull up to Therese's apartment complex. The shiver from a lover's caress suddenly shifts to a stronger tremble. When Carol parks the car and cuts the ignition, Therese looks down at her hands and tries not to cry. Even Carol's gentle caress at her shoulder does little to comfort her.

“I should go up, I guess.” She pulls the handle from inside the door and puts one foot out as it swings open.

“I'll come up with you.”

As they enter the building and walk up the narrow old stairs to Therese's apartment, Carol follows behind with a protective hand on her lower back. They keep a safe distance as they approach the door and unlock it, but once it closes behind them and they have some privacy once again, Therese spins and pushes Carol against the wall.

“I know you have to go,” Therese whispers into the nape of Carol's neck between a series of open-mouthed kisses. “But...”

“You're not making it easy,” Carol teases. Her head falls back and her eyes shut as Therese's tongue slides along her pulse. Occasionally, teeth nip at the thin, pale skin just below Carol's jawline, and even though Therese knows she'll be scolded for it tomorrow, the noises she elicits deep from the older woman's throat are completely worth whatever punishment is ahead.

“Stay with me?”

Carol sighs. “If I'm not there to pick Rindy up, Harge will...” She looks away timidly. “It won't be good for any of us.”

“Tomorrow?” Therese's eyes are wide as she waits for Carol's answer.

“I have something tomorrow in the early evening. But I will come to you afterward, ok?”

“Promise?”

Carol laughs softly. “Yes, sweetheart, I promise.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

Saying goodbye after their weekend together is even more difficult than Therese had anticipated, but the plans to see each other again slightly lessen the blow. Teary-eyed, she watches as Carol disappears into the hallway and down the stairs. In the midst of exchanging their fifth set of goodbye kisses, Carol's cell phone had chimed, and without her even needing to look at it, Therese had known _exactly_ who it was.

Harge's hold on her makes Therese's stomach churn. Carol had been incredibly cryptic about the situation, and while she realizes the two share a young child together, Therese senses there is something beyond this basic bond that strangely forces them together. With nothing better to do – and a distraction from the heartbreak she feels as Carol's car pulls out of the alleyway – Therese grabs her laptop from her bedroom and sinks into the sofa with it. She double clicks on the round Chrome icon and enters a name into the search bar: Harge Aird.

The first result is a teaser for a news article with a preview image to the left, and Therese immediately recognizes the man in the photograph. With a tap of her touchpad, the full version of the article loads in her browser.

_September 7, 2012_

**East Shores University Elects Harge Aird as New Dean**

The East Shores University administration is proud to announce the addition of Harge Aird to the ESU family as Dean of Students. After working for several years as the superintendent of the Forestmeadow School District, Harge is excited to bring his expertise and passion to our campus. With a clear cut vision for the future, he is dedicated to supporting our growing community, and looks forward to a long tenure here at East Shores.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun. Dun. _Dunnnn_.
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more.
> 
> I realize I haven't responded to everyone's comments from the last chapter, but rest assured, I'm continuing to answer!! I love engaging with you all, so comment away!


	27. Chapter 27

Monday mornings are always a struggle, but Therese finds it damned near impossible to get out of bed as her 5am alarm beeps loudly from across the room. Despite planning to go to bed early the night before, she couldn't stop thinking about Harge's betrayal – so much so, that each time she finally felt her mind quieting, her anger would come back full force – her stomach churning and her blood boiling with frustration. How someone could do something so sneaky and horrible, especially to someone like Carol, his _wife_ , is unfathomable to her. All night, she'd planned many different scenarios in her head to get some kind of revenge. Therese knows she's far too timid to ever enact any of them, but there's something about at least imagining them that gives her a brief feeling of satisfaction.

As she goes through her morning routine, Therese realizes just how much more entertaining eating breakfast and showering are when there's someone there to join her. She dresses in a black skirt with a red and white patterned blouse. Giving herself a once-over in her bedroom mirror, she adds a pair of small white gold hoop earrings to complete the ensemble and wonders what Carol would think of it. With a smirk, she also wonders just how long she'd actually _stay_ wearing it if Carol were here with her.

Catching sight of her cell phone charging at the living room table, Therese briefly contemplates sending a good morning text message. Surely Carol would enjoy it – something to remind her she's thought of. But just as she brings up their message chain from before their weekend getaway, she decides against sending anything, suddenly worried that she may come off as too needy or clingy. It's a fine line she tries not to cross, and Therese silently curses how goddamned emotionally complex it is to date women.

**-X-X-X-X-**

When Therese arrives at work, after unlocking her classroom and turning on her desktop computer, she makes a quick stop into the teacher's lounge to put her lunch in the refrigerator. There are various conversations happening when she arrives – mostly middle-aged teachers talking about their weekends. Unsurprisingly, no one encourages her to join. Having made little effort to get to know anyone, it shouldn't come as a shock to her, but it's difficult to ignore how invisible she feels among the faculty.

As she turns back to the door to return to her classroom, Abby enters with a brown paper bag in her hand. Her expression starts cold but suddenly warms when she catches sight of Therese.

“Welcome back to reality,” Abby teases.

Therese blinks. “I'm sorry?”

Abby winks, then moves to the counter where a pot of coffee brews. She pushes her lunch to the back of the fridge and grabs the creamer from the door. “We have some food thieves here, ya know.” Lowering her voice, she adds, “I don't want to name names, but it's _definitely_ that bitch Erin.” Abby cackles. “So you'd be better off hiding whatever it is you've brought, or I can almost guarantee it's going to be gone by noon.”

Flabbergasted by the whole situation, Therese just stands like a deer in headlights, unsure how to react to Abby's friendliness. Until this point, Abby had barely even acknowledged her existence. It's then that Therese remembers the conversation she'd eavesdropped on not long ago, and the sudden change begins to make a _little_ more sense. Carol has clearly told her about their weekend in some capacity, and the idea is practically confirmed when Therese blushes at the thought and Abby smiles coyly at her in return.

Embarrassed and a bit uncomfortable, Therese turns and leaves the room, Abby's “have a great day!” not much more than an echo as she scurries down the hall to her class. She enters to find someone standing in front of her desk with their back turned to her in a pair of jet black slacks, a forest green button up and a pair of charcoal stilettos straight out of a runway – painful to wear, stunning to look at.

“Good morning.”

It's not like Therese has any question who it is, yet the sight of Carol still takes her breath away as she turns, a smile spread across her face in a warm greeting. Carol's hair is pulled back in a tight updo, not a single strand out of place, and a dash of rouge and light colored lipstick add a pinkness to her face that is youthful despite her professional appearance. She looks renewed and rejuvenated, but most of all _happy_ , and it takes every ounce of self control she has for Therese not to pounce and kiss Carol ravenously.

“Good morning, Mrs. Aird.” As a few parents and students trickle into the classroom, Therese offers some pleasantries to curb any suspicion. “I hope you had a good weekend.”

“Yes, it was quite lovely.” Carol's fingers the white and green material at her neck – a thin silk scarf that is still way too warm for the end of summer, but hides the love mark Therese has undoubtably left there. Therese bites on her lower lip to stifle a laugh, but Carol still catches her in a knowing glance, raising her eyebrows and pouting her lips as if to say ' _this is all your fault_ '. But Therese doesn't feel sorry – not even a little bit.

It would be unwise to show any affection – Therese knows it despite the wave of emotion pulsing through her – but the urge to touch Carol only grows stronger as they stand in silence, staring at each other. Leaning against the side of the desk, Carol's slightly popped hip and the promise of the curves beneath the black material of her slacks almost dares Therese to _do_ something. As the classroom continues to fill behind them, Therese remains focused on Carol alone, desperate to touch her in some way – even a hug or a passing brush of fingertips would satisfy her; after their weekend together, she has no idea how she can go back to anything less.

“Have a wonderful day, Miss Belivet.” Carol steps forward, closer than Therese ever expected her to get in such a public place. But women are inherently touchy, caressing and embracing their friends platonically, and so she hopes no parents take notice at the way she trembles when Carol brushes past her and swipes her hand down the length of her shoulder and arm in a quick motion. There's no skin-on-skin contact from it, but Therese feels it in every inch of herself.

**-X-X-X-X-**

As soon as the last student leaves her classroom – including Rindy, who is unsurprisingly picked up by her sitter – Therese decides to go home instead of staying late to prep for the week. Carol's only been to her apartment for brief spurts, but Therese senses tonight will be a more prolonged event, and so she decides to tidy up before Carol arrives. She's also not certain Carol will have eaten dinner with whatever other plans she has for the early evening, and she wonders whether she should plan to have something prepared. Therese grabs her purse from beneath her desk and pulls it over her shoulder. As she switches the lights off and locks the door behind her with the keys chained to the side of her bag, she can sense someone standing a few feet behind her, watching her.

Erin's voice – high and grating – greets her. “Therese! You're still here! I just wanted to remind you that-”

“I'm sorry, Erin, I really have to go.” Therese pulls the strap of her purse higher onto her shoulder and spins around toward the exit before Erin has a chance to prattle on any more.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Therese hates cleaning, but it works as a pleasant distraction as she waits for Carol - or at least some message that she's on her way. Between spurts of productivity, Therese obsessively checks her phone, hoping for some word, but after several hours, there is still no sign of the other woman. When she'd first arrived home, she'd sent Carol a text message asking if she was up to dinner. Unsure whether Carol would reply with a preference, Therese had waited to pick up anything in particular for them to eat, but as 7:00pm rolls around, she finds herself struggling to ignore the rumbling of her stomach.

She grabs her cell phone again and dials Carol's number. It rings four times before a sultry voice greets her with a prerecorded message.

“ _This is Carol Aird. I'm sorry, but I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number and I'll be sure to return your call as soon as possible. Thanks.”_

“Hey, it's me. Just wondering where you are. Hope you're ok. Please give me a call when you can. I'm getting kind of hungry so I might order a pizza. Text me with any topping preferences, ok? Love you.”

Therese's eyes bulge. A cold sweat starts at the back of her neck as she taps feverishly at the “end call” button before she can say anything else. Sure, they'd shared the words before, but there's something different about the way she'd said it this time, so natural and calm. It had just felt _right_ – perfectly placed punctuation at the end of her message.

Therese only has a few minutes to obsess over it, though, before her ringtone plays.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. Where oh where might Carol be?! 
> 
> I'm still answering all of your lovely comments, and I'm thankful for each and every one of you who has taken the time to share your thoughts and feelings about this piece. Thank you, thank you, and thank you!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Therese has been listening to this phone ring for over a month, so maybe she should answer it...
> 
> ;)

“Hi darling. My hands are a bit full. Mind coming down and helping me in?” Carol's voice is warm and calm on the other end of the phone.

Therese feels a conflicting series of emotions, relieved to finally hear from Carol and know she is ok, but still slightly frustrated with the lack of communication until this point. She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs.

“Therese? Are you there?”

“Yeah, um, sorry.” She clears her throat and paces back and forth looking for her keys. “I'll be down in just a minute.” After frantically digging through her purse and computer bag, she finds her keychain tossed aside on the coffee table. Therese swings it around her index finger as she leaves the apartment and hops down the stairs, keeping Carol on the line with her phone in the other hand. As she rounds the corner at the bottom of the staircase, she can see Carol standing on the other side of the glass door beside the buzzer, a thick black tote hooked on her arm and a pizza box balanced effortlessly in her hand. As their eyes meet, Carol tosses her phone into her bag and waves at Therese with her fingertips.

“Let me in,” Carol mouths dramatically.

“I can hear you,” Therese laughs. She tugs on the handle and holds the door open. “We need to get you a key,” she suggests, taking the pizza box.

Carol stops and raises an eyebrow, smiling.

Like her earlier ' _love you_ ', the suggestion comes out naturally and with little thought. Embarrassed yet again, Therese tries to change the subject. “Where have you been? Did you get my voicemail? I was just about to order a pizza.”

“Oh? I hadn't listened,” Carol admits, ignoring the first question. “I was driving. I was only a minute away when you called so I figured we would just talk in person.”

As they walk into the apartment together, Therese takes Carol's large bag with her free hand. She sets the pizza box down on the kitchen counter, then turns back to Carol, holding the tote up to her chest.

“A change of clothes?”

“I suppose.” Carol kicks off her heels and places them neatly on the doormat. “I guess I thought...well, I figured I would stay the night.”

Therese blinks.

Carol stops. “Unless you don't want me to.”

“No, no, no. Oh god no. Carol, I would love that. I just didn't expect...” Therese looks around the room to the dirty dishes in the sink and remembers the messy pile of sweaters at the edge of her bed. She'd cleaned up a bit waiting, but hadn't exactly expected Carol to _stay the night_.

“I just got pepperoni. I hope that's alright.” Carol walks over and picks at the corner of the cardboard box, her voice soft and her body language subtly dejected. She avoids eye contact as Therese joins her side.

“Hey.” Therese sets Carol's bag down, then wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close. “You are welcome here any time. I was just surprised, that's all. It's not like I live...well,” she waves around the room, “this apartment is nothing like your house.”

“You're right,” Carol agrees. “It isn't.”

Although Therese tries not to take it personally, her face immediately gives her away, brows furrowed and forehead wrinkled with her lips tight.

“It isn't like my house because it doesn't have you in it,” Carol explains.

It's a slightly inappropriate response, but Therese rolls her eyes and snorts.

“What's so funny?” Carol asks, pulling away and placing her hands on her hips.

“That was _such_ a Nicholas Sparks thing to say,” Therese teases. “It's adorable.” Gently, she tugs one of Carol's hands away from her waist and pulls her close enough for a kiss on the cheek. “ _You're_ adorable.”

“I was going for romantic. Sexy. Irresistible.”

“You are _all_ of those things,” Therese assures her. With both of them feeling less self conscious, she grabs two paper plates from the cabinet and pulls the top off the box. The pizza smells salty and absolutely delicious, and her mouth waters as she picks up a piece and takes a large bite. “Want some?” she offers mid-chew.

“I'll get it,” Carol chuckles. In true Carol Aird fashion, she chooses her own piece and eats it daintily, without a single string of cheese dangling or a smudge of sauce on her mouth or face. Therese watches her almost in awe, amazed by this gorgeous woman and the way that she can even make _pizza_ seem sexy.

“I didn't peg you as a pizza girl,” Therese confesses, reaching for her second piece.

“It's a bit of a guilty pleasure.” Carol pops a pepperoni into her mouth and winks.

“Do you have a lot of those?” Therese asks, teasing.

“Just one other.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. Mhm.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

Three pieces of pizza and several beers later, Therese finds herself buzzed and slightly bloated from the approximately ten pounds of mozzarella she's consumed. Content, with her head curled in Carol's lap, she dozes in and out of consciousness to the sound of the late-night news and the sensation of Carol's long fingers stroking her hair and massaging her scalp. Although her sight is blurry with sleep, she can clearly see the beauty of Carol's face, the fine lines around her eyes and mouth more prominent as the day winds to a close. Therese knows Carol must feel self conscious about them, but she finds them absolutely stunning. Smiling, she reaches up and strokes Carol's face with her thumb. “You're beautiful.”

“And you're pepperoni drunk,” Carol responds playfully.

“Perhaps. But what I said still holds true.”

“I think it's time for bed.”

Therese sits up slowly. Carol rises from the couch and grabs her bag at the doorway. “I'm going to get changed.”

Therese nods, and the reality that Carol will be sleeping with her in _her_ bed finally sets in. The hotel and its atmosphere had been so sexy and erotic, but this is a different level of intimacy. Nervous, she rushes into her room and searches frantically for something to wear. Lingerie? A nightie? What exactly was Carol expecting? On an average night, she'd settle for a loose camisole and boxer shorts, but surely she needs something more seductive with Carol laying beside her. She digs to the bottom of her underwear drawer, certain there is some sort of lingerie tucked away – likely gathering dust and wrinkled as hell.

“What are you doing?” Carol asks as she steps into the bedroom.

And the sight of her takes Therese's breath away.

Carol is even more lovely than she'd imagined that morning in the shower. A pair of dark grey sweatpants sit loosely on the older woman's hips, and a jet black t-shirt hangs off one shoulder. FORESTMEADOW is written across her chest in green print, and while the ensemble may look simple to some, Therese is strangely attracted to this side of Carol. Her fresh face – makeup removed, contacts swapped for a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses – and natural hair – curly but pulled back into a small ponytail, where a few wisps fall outside of the red band there – are absolutely gorgeous.

“I know, I know.” Carol points at herself. “It isn't red silk pajamas, but...”

“You look...” Therese bites her lower lip. “Hot. Super hot. Super, _super_ hot.”

Carol rolls her eyes. “No.”

“Yes.”

“If you say so.”

Therese smiles. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff to preemptively help with the turmoil to come...
> 
> Your comments inspire me to keep writing both this and Eye of the Beholder, so if you'd like to see more, please comment! I love hearing your thoughts and feedback. What do you think lies ahead now that we have returned to Forestmeadow and its many, many layers?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented so far!


	29. Chapter 29

5am is hardly Therese's favorite time of day, but the pain of it is eased when she wakes to the sight of Carol in bed beside her. She sleeps peacefully, and as Therese watches her, she can't help but feel slightly amazed and envious at how perfect she looks this early in the morning. A few strands of blonde hair have fallen out of their place in Carol's ponytail, and the t-shirt she'd fallen asleep in is slightly disheveled, pulled up a bit to expose the skin beneath it, but these things make her look even _more_ beautiful.

When Therese's alarm blares from her bedstand, they both groan.

Carol opens her eyes just a bit, smiling at the sight of Therese. She nuzzles her face into the pillow beneath her and stretches slowly. “It cannot be 5am already,” she laments.

The sound of Carol's husky, sleep-ridden voice is overwhelmingly seductive. After switching the alarm off, Therese acts on impulse, shifting to kiss Carol slowly despite her own morning breath and desperate need for a shower.

“Good morning,” Carol says softly, playing with Therese's hair between her fingers. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. Always better with you,” Therese confesses.

Carol nods in agreement.

“Coffee?”

“Mmm, yes. That would be lovely.”

Therese slides toward the edge of the bed, only to be pulled back down with a gentle tug around her wrist. Carol overpowers her with surprising ease, and it isn't long before she finds herself completely on her back with her arms pinned over her head. “I'm afraid I can't get coffee if you hold me captive,” Therese laughs. Carol's body is pressed deliciously close, and although she's limited in her movements, Therese manages to bury her face into the nape of the woman's neck, peppering the soft skin there with delicate, open-mouthed kisses that draw out gentle sighs from Carol's lips.

They caress each other lazily for a short while, and just when Therese tries to determine how she can get away with using sick time this early in the school year, Carol kisses her once more on the cheek and gives her a playful pat on her bare thigh. “Coffee.”

“Tease,” Therese grumbles as she finally steps out of the bed and to the doorway. She stops and looks over her shoulder to the blonde siren sprawled in her bed, who winks and blows a playful kiss from her place at the headboard.

As she waits for the coffee to brew, Therese muses that it will be absolutely impossible to go back to sleeping alone each night without Carol. Coming home to her each day would be even more amazing, the perfect motivation on even the most difficult of days. Therese hardly knows anyone at the school, so the likelihood of anyone really knowing about their relationship would be slim to none. Abby clearly does, but being Carol's good friend, she guesses she's little threat.

After adding a splash of Irish creamer to each mug, Therese pours a generous amount of coffee into each and makes her way back toward the bedroom. She expects to find Carol in all of her delicious glory, but is sadly mistaken when the bed turns out cold and empty.

“Did you paint this?”

Therese spins in the opposite direction to the small, spare room she keeps her large canvases in. She finds Carol standing in front of her most recent painting, admiring. The piece – centered around that gorgeous shade of Aird red she's come to love – is hardly close to finished, and Therese feels an overwhelming urge to bury her face in her hands and slink away with embarrassment. “Yes,” she eventually replies. “It's just a little something I put together. I haven't finished it.”

Carol seems transfixed, running her fingers over the various strokes of purple and red in the center of the canvas. The shape is flowery, feminine, a bit erotic if stared at long enough. Therese takes pride in her artwork, but it's nothing compared to how beautiful Carol looks as she gazes forward, taking in each stroke and the depth of the painted layers. “This is...” Even as Carol speaks, her eyes never leave the art in front of her.

“The anticipation is killing me,” Therese teases. She joins Carol's side and finally hands over one of the coffee mugs. “Do you like it?”

“Will you promise me something?” Carol finally turns to her. Something in her expression has changed – the playfulness of the morning fading – and Therese isn't sure how to feel on the receiving end of it.

“Yes.”

“When this is finished, I'd like to buy it from you.”

Whatever she was expecting, it was certainly not _that._ “You don't have to buy it. I will happily give it to you when it's finished.”

Carol shakes her head. “No. You are sweet to offer but no. This is an exquisite piece of _art_ and the artist deserves to be paid properly for it.”

Therese hides her mounting embarrassment by burying her face into her coffee mug, sipping slowly until she can no longer feel Carol's eyes on her. Except Carol's eyes never _really_ leave her, watching as she licks a bit of coffee-laced cream from her top lip. She's just about finished her first cup when she finally abandons it and focuses her attention on the woman beside her. “What?”

“I was thinking.”

“Oh?”

“I've decided what I want for breakfast this morning.”

Therese raises an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

Carol grins like a Cheshire cat.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Therese enters the elementary with an extra pep in her step. Going to work isn't exactly the most exhilarating experience, but her morning with Carol has put her in a wonderful mood, and she vows not to let anything sour it. She'd expected to arrive with only a minute or so to spare – Carol had been particularly ravenous for her first meal of the day – but traffic was surprisingly light and her commute, in turn, short, and Therese is pleasantly surprised to find her classroom completely empty as she steps inside.

It is, however, short-lived when Erin saunters in. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Confused, Therese sets her bag down on her desk chair and turns to give Erin her full attention. “I'm sorry?”

“The art club. The board voted on it last night. It's yours.”

Therese grins like a fool, unable to hide her excitement. “I had no idea. That's...wow. Wow.”

“It was a very close vote, or so I heard,” Erin continues. “Lucky for you that Carol Aird was the deciding vote.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Carol...
> 
> Hate me yet? I expect the next update to be a bit longer, as we're moving into some interesting territory here. Will it be worth it? I hope so!
> 
> I adore reading your comments and feedback. They certainly make this author smile and inspire more. Please say hello if you're enjoying this piece, and as always, thank you to all who have read and commented so far.


	30. Chapter 30

Therese spends the morning in a haze. Even Rindy's sweet face can't shake the mood she's in. With a semi-toothless grin, she runs into the classroom – parentless, Therese notes – and waves excitedly. “Good morning, Miss Therese,” she greets.

“Hi Rindy.” Therese tries to hide the annoyance in her voice. Carol's actions are hardly her daughter's fault, and it would be incredibly unfair to take any frustrations out on the young girl, yet Therese finds her patience wearing thin despite having only exchanged a few words.

Had Carol lied to her? Therese tries to to think back to their conversations, to the few details Carol has shared. Had she kept her involvement at the school a secret on purpose, knowing how she might react? Or had it been an unselfish choice, wanting to protect her and not cause an added strain? After all, the parent / teacher dynamic of their relationship is hard enough; Carol's role on the board only makes the situation more complicated.

Therese pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to focus.

“When I spoke to mama on the phone this morning, she said that we might all go for a walk in the park after school today!” Rindy clasps her hands together and jumps up and down.

 _We all_. Therese crosses her arms over her chest. “She said that, did she?”

“Yes! Will you help me feed the birds? Mama usually sits on the bench and watches me while I-”

“I'm sorry,” Therese interrupts, “but I don't think I'm going to be able to make it today.” Even without the recent news, she's frustrated by Carol's committing her to plans without consulting her first. She can handle conflict with Carol, but the last thing she would ever want to do is unknowingly break sweet Rindy's heart.

Dejected, Rindy's shoulders slump. “But...” Her little voice cracks. “Mama said...”

“Take your seat, ok? We can talk about this later.” Therese tries to give the girl's arm a reassuring squeeze, but Rindy pulls away before she has the opportunity, stomping off to her seat.

Her own irritation must be contagious. By the end of the morning, the entire classroom is particularly cranky, and Therese finds herself at her wit's end. Jackson and Tim fight over a train set, despite there being enough cars for them to share. Marie has a meltdown when Deandre takes the red crayon she wanted from the shared art supplies, and when Leann spills her chocolate milk all over the drawing she's been working on, the resulting tantrum is one of epic proportions.

By lunchtime, Therese has had enough. She needs time to process everything, away from her cranky students and fake coworkers and yes, even away from the secretive world Carol Aird seems to live in. Feigning illness, she alerts Principal Freeman and the office staff so someone can cover her class for the afternoon, then grabs her phone and her bag and leaves Forestmeadow Elementary like a bat out of hell.

**-X-X-X-X-**

As soon as she arrives home, Therese dives back into bed, not even taking the time to change out of the blouse and slacks she'd worn into work. With her face buried in the pillows, she can still smell the trace scent of Carol's hair and perfume. Her frustration over the entire situation brings her to tears, and before long, her face and the pillowcase are warm and wet with them. She falls in and out of sleep, jolted awake occasionally by her own anxiousness.

From where her handbag hangs in the apartment entryway, she can hear the ' _ding'_ of her cell phone as a string of text messages come through. It starts with one, then another, and after awhile, the chime continues over and over until she decides to get up and silence the annoying thing once and for all. She's not exactly surprised to see who the messages are from, and although there's a tiny voice in the back of her head that tells her to ignore them for now, Therese taps at the message icon on her screen and reads each of them.

 **Carol, 3:15PM** : _I came to pick up Rindy and you weren't here. Are you ok?_

 **Carol, 3:30PM** : _Rindy's in a spectacularly bratty mood. What happened?_

 **Carol, 3:45PM** : _Therese?_

 **Carol, 4:15PM:** _I've dropped Rindy off at home with the sitter. I'm coming over._

 **Carol, 4:45PM** : _I'm downstairs at the doorway. Let me in._

 **Carol, 4:46PM** : _Hello?_

Therese doesn't get the opportunity to text back before there's a knock at the door. Unlike last night where she had been waiting excitedly for Carol's arrival, a sense of dread runs through her as she approaches the door. She brings one eye to the doorhole and finds Carol standing there, staring anxiously ahead as she waits for it to open.

“Therese, please open the door.”

“How did you get up here?” Therese asks, her voice raised so it can clearly be heard without inviting Carol inside.

“Oh thank god,” Carol breathes. “I was worried something may have happened to you.”

“How did you get _up here_?”

“I waited for your neighbor to come in and snuck in behind her before the door closed.” Carol's face scrunches up. “Why are you asking me? And why am I still standing in this damned hallway? Let me in.”

“I'm not feeling very well,” Therese lies. “I think it's best I'm alone for awhile.”

“Let me come take care of you.” Carol grabs the doorknob and twists, finding it locked.

“How long have you been on the board?” The question slips out sooner than Therese had planned.

“I'm sorry?”

“The school board you'd failed to mention?”

“Ah.” Carol nods once and purses her lips. “I thought you'd be excited. The art club is such an opportunity and I know you will do an amazing job. Rindy will be overjoyed to-”

A wave of anger and frustration rushes over her. Therese throws open the door and steps into the entryway to prevent Carol from walking inside.

“Darling, you've been crying.” Carol reaches out to stroke Therese's cheek, but the younger woman pulls away before she gets the chance to. “What's wrong?”

She hates confrontation, but her body language is strong and confident. “Did you not think it might be important for me to know that you are essentially my _boss_?” Therese hisses, gripping the trim of the door.

“ _Freeman_ is your boss,” Carol corrects. “I am hardly-”

“The board has a large influence on the entire community of the school. Activities. Classes. Employees. Please try to tell me you aren't involved in any way with the budgets, the hiring process, the-”

“Therese.”

“What's even worse is that I had to hear it from Erin Smithson.”

“Erin Smithson is-”

“I don't care _what_ she is, you lied to me.” Therese's jaw is tight and her eyes are wide and fiery, daring Carol to argue.

“I didn't lie.”

“I asked and you weren't _exactly_ forthcoming with the information you shared. Did you not think it would be important for me to know?”

Carol steps forward and caresses Therese's shoulder. “I've only been trying to help you. I'm one person. If the rest of the board didn't feel you were a fit, then-”

“I think you should go.” Therese looks down at her feet, unable to look Carol in the eye.

“I-” Carol's voice falters, the argument she's tried to form falling away before it even starts. “If that's what you want.”

Therese remains quiet. She lifts her head and watches Carol as she walks away. Even in the midst of a fight, she can't deny how beautiful Carol looks.

As she approaches the top of the staircase, Carol turns slightly and glances over her shoulder. “I love you.”

When she disappears down the stairs without another word, Therese closes the door and sinks to the floor, pulling her legs close to her chest and burying her face into her knees.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...
> 
> As always, comments make the author smile and inspire more! If you're enjoying this, stop by and share your thoughts :) And thank you to everyone who has read and commented so far!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!

Never one to confront her feelings head on, Therese throws herself into her work to distract from the conflict surrounding her. After a quick brief from Freeman about what's to be expected of her now that the Art Club is in her hands, she's given the reigns and a barely-there budget of about $200 to get all of the supplies needed and make the club's existence known around the school. There are mountains to climb before she'll even be ready to hold the first meeting, but simply having the opportunity is enough to keep her going when, secretly, she wants to curl up with a big container of ice cream, watch shitty B-horror movies on Netflix and cry her eyes out.

A series of emails throughout the week remind her that the “Dancing with the Stars”-themed dance will be held the third week of September. “Perhaps you and your club could put together the decorations?” Erin suggests at the Friday staff meeting before the start of the school day.

As if she didn't have enough on her plate already. Therese nods painfully in agreement. “I'll see what I can do.”

Once her class has settled after the morning bell, she takes the time to finally explain the art club and encourage each of her students to join. “Some of you may have heard that I am now leading a new art program here at school! I would be so excited and honored to have each of you join me next week for the first meeting. If you think you would be interested, come to my desk before lunch and I will write your names down. I will send a letter home with anyone who might be interested that you can show your moms and dads.” The eyes of some of her particularly creative students light up at the mention of the opportunity, which makes Therese's heart soar in a way it hasn't since...

She clears her throat, picks up a piece of white chalk, and begins writing on the board. “The letter of the day is Q. What are some of your favorite words that start with Q?”

**-X-X-X-X-**

Out of the twenty children in her classroom, seven approach her excitedly about the chance to join the art club. Yet there's one five-year-old in particular that's missing from her list. As the students file out for lunch, Therese stops Rindy at the door with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. “Hi Rindy. Can we talk for a second?” She pulls the girl to her desk.

Usually filled with bubbling excitement, Rindy stares down at her hot pink shoes and waits quietly.

“Is everything ok? I thought for sure you would want to join. You're always very excited during arts and crafts.”

Rindy sniffs, then finally looks up with big blue eyes, so like her mother's they actually make Therese's heart race. “If I join, will you and mama stop fighting?”

Therese crouches down and takes Rindy's hands. “What do you mean, honey?”

“I heard Aunt Abby and mama talking about you. Mama was crying. I don't like when she's sad. She told me not to tell you about it, but I don't like it, Miss Therese.” Rindy plays with the zipper on the side of her lunch box, focusing on it instead of the face of her very worried and equally heartbroken teacher.

Therese sighs. “Sometimes grown-ups fight about things that are hard to explain to you kids. Your mom loves you more than anything in the world, and I care about you a great deal. I never want you to be sad about anything, and I want you to always feel like you can come to me about anything you are feeling, ok?” She gives Rindy's hand a reassuring squeeze. “Why don't I write your name down and I'll talk to your mom about you joining the club, ok?” She smiles, and the five-year-old soon follows suit, beaming in a way Therese hasn't seen all week. “Now go enjoy your lunch, and I'll see you in a bit, ok?”

Rindy nods, then skips off down the hallway to catch up with the rest of the class.

Once she's certain she's alone, Therese sinks into the chair at her desk and sighs, running her fingers through her hair and down to her neck. The tension she's been carrying sits painfully in her shoulders and she would give just about anything for a good massage. She stretches slowly, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort, but stops when she notices her cell phone peeking out of her bag. All week, she's held uncharacteristic restraint, not checking her phone for messages from Carol no matter how desperately she's wanted to. Something about her exchange with Rindy softens her a bit, and in a moment of weakness, Therese picks up her cell and checks her previous thread with Carol.

Nothing new. Not that she'd really expected anything different. Not that she wants Carol to text her. Not that she wants to see Carol at all.

“I'm sorry,” Therese taps out with her thumbs. “I miss you.”

She reads it several times over, her index finger hovering over the send button for awhile. Unable to find the courage to actually send it, she deletes the message and tosses her phone back into her bag with a grumble.

**-X-X-X-X-**

At the end of the day, Therese retreats to the studio to choose the first project she wants to present to the club. She sketches out a few ideas onto a piece of computer paper, but finds her focus quickly wandering to the stack of supplies at the corner of the table. The red and purple pastels remind her of Carol, and it only takes a few seconds for Therese to turn into a blubbering mess, tears dripping down her cheeks and onto her sketches.

“You're a sight for sore eyes.”

Therese jumps from her seat and wipes at her eyes and cheeks with the back of her palm. Briefly, she expects to find Carol at the door, but it's Abby who stands there instead, her back against the wall and her arms folded in front of her chest. The expression on her face is a mix of disgust and pity, which only makes Therese more upset. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Therese turns away from Abby and feigns interest in the paper in front of her, even though she can barely see it with the way her tears blur her vision. “If you're here to talk to me about Carol, I'm not in the mood. I don't need her to send anyone to do her bidding. If she has something to say to me, she can-”

“Jesus Christ, will you stop it? You both have the maturity of teenagers, I swear.”

“If you have something to say to me, Abby, then just say it.”

Abby sighs heavily. “Listen, it's none of my business. You two need to work it out and I'm trying not to get involved, but I will say that I've known Carol for many years and I have never seen her this heartbroken. And she has gone through a lot of heartbreak in her life.”

Therese nods. “Yeah, I know.”

“No, I don't really think you know. I don't know what she's told you, but she has been through hell and back over the last decade. And if it wasn't for her, you wouldn't even have this job, because she essentially pulled this school from the ashes when Harge left it to go down in flames.”

Therese cocks her head. “What?”

“Yeah,” Abby laughs angrily. “Exactly. You think you've got it all figured out, but it's so much more complicated than that. I know you feel hurt and betrayed but she's trying. Which is more than I can say about pretty much any relationship I've ever seen her in.” She scratches her forearm nervously and adds, “I would know.”

Therese rubs her temples with her middle and index fingers. “What exactly am I supposed to do? Just ignore the fact that she lied?”

“No,” Abby answers flatly. “You can be upset with her. Just don't toss her to the curb, ok? She's a good woman. And her daughter loves you to death. Once you've calmed down, just talk to her, ok? And if after that talk, you still can't get over it, and you still don't realize how in love with you she is, then and _only_ then should you walk away.”

Therese buries her face in her hands and sighs. “Goodnight, Abby.”

Abby doesn't say anything in response, but the heavy studio door closes with a slow groan. Her words linger in Therese's mind for quite some time, and after an unsuccessful attempt to distract herself with the pastels – which, of course, only make her think of Carol more – she grabs her phone and sends a text she hopes she won't regret.

 _I'm sorry. I miss you_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. Your comments truly keep me going with this fic, so stop by and leave your thoughts if you're still along for this ride ;) Thanks for reading!


	32. Chapter 32

Historically, Carol's always responded right away, but when Therese finally leaves the studio in the early evening, she's greeted by nothing but radio silence when she checks her messages. She briefly considers trying to call, but if Carol's not up to answering a simple text, Therese is fairly certain her odds of having a full, productive conversation are slim-to-none. She's frustrated by Carol's silence, but she's even more frustrated with herself as the consequences of her tantrum really set in, and Therese realizes that there may not be any other way for her to fix this except with time.

At 6, she heats up a microwavable dinner – pot roast, mashed potatoes, and some orange sticks that vaguely resemble but taste nothing like carrots. And still, there's nothing from Carol.

At 7, she cleans the kitchen and the living room to distract herself. By the time she's finished closer to 8, a quick check of her phone shows that there is still, unsurprisingly, nothing from Carol.

By 9, when she's out of the shower and changed into her pajamas, Therese opens the “messages” app and yet again – nothing.

If she were smart, she'd just turn the damned thing off for the rest of the night and try again in the morning, but she knows she's fooling herself if she thinks she'll be able to get any sleep at all if she does. She'll toss and turn for hours, wondering what if – what if Carol calls and there's no answer? What if she messages over and over and gets no response, only to think she's being ignored? Therese simply can't find the will to switch it off, staring at the blank screen beside her pillow until she finally drifts off a little before 11.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Therese enjoys her weekends. She sleeps in, catches up on television, cooks dinners she wouldn't have the time for on an average night, and lounges in her pajamas for as long as she possibly can. The time to relax and recharge before the upcoming week is valuable to her. Yet, she's barely awake for a few hours on Saturday morning before she starts to go stir crazy. There are only so many times she can check her phone, and Therese is certain she will go positively mad if she sits in her apartment any longer.

On a whim, she grabs a light sweater from her room and races out the door with her bag and keys in her hands. She's not even sure where she's going or what she's doing, and it isn't until Therese is in her car and driving down the freeway that she finally decides where exactly she's escaping to.

Saturday mornings at _La Fleur_ , Therese learns, are extremely busy. It takes fifteen minutes just to find a parking spot nearby, and when she finally steps through the front door of the cafe, the line for the register is practically out the door. As she waits to place her order – coffee, and maybe a pastry if she's feeling adventurous – she looks around the small shop and reminisces about her first date with Carol. She'd been such a nervous mess waiting at the corner table, and when Carol had finally approached her in her dark, skin-tight dress and sophisticated silver watch, she'd felt dizzy, out of her element, and _hopelessly_ in love.

Therese realizes that she must really love to torture herself to choose _this_ particular place, as she finds herself teary-eyed by the time the cashier greets her. “Just a coffee with a shot of vanilla cream.” Suddenly, she isn't feeling particularly hungry.

Despite the crowd, it only takes a few minutes to get her drink, and once she has it in hand, she finds a seat across the room and relaxes. In the back of _La Fleur_ – the most unlikely of places – inspiration strikes. Like a true artist, she carries a tiny sketchbook and pencil in her bag for situations such as these, and thankful for the distraction from the events of the last week, Therese absentmindedly watches and lazily sketches the various people around her. She watches the couples having tea together, and the children tugging on their mothers' shirts, and the students working alone on their laptops at the long, red couch on the other side of the shop. Her eye regularly wanders back to the long line of customers, and she finds herself fixated on a woman toward the front of the line. Her back is turned, but Therese admires the light curl of her blonde hair and the baby blue blouse she pairs with black slacks and charcoal heels. When she turns with a coffee in one hand and a to-go pastry bag in the other, Therese is reminded of-

Carol. There's no mistaking her or those icy blue eyes. Therese watches her, transfixed, as she makes her way through the crowd toward the exit. The slow motion montages in the movies don't do the moment justice, because it's a surreal quiet where the whole world disappears from around them. Carol doesn't notice her – or she puts on a tremendous act to make it seem that way – and it takes every ounce of self control in Therese's body not to jump up from her seat and chase after her. But she's already made a fool of herself, and she's certain Carol would not find her running down the street as romantic as it appears in her head.

Therese gulps down her coffee, emotionless as it burns her throat.

**-X-X-X-X-**

When Therese arrives home, she tosses her bag onto the floor and storms into her room. Although she'd gone out in a loose v-neck and jeans, she's desperate to change into something even lighter, feeling suffocated by her own anger mixed with the end-of-summer heat and humidity. She wiggles out of the denim and strips down to her bra and underwear, and as she fumbles around in the extra room looking for an old tank top to lounge around in, Therese notices the canvas Carol had laid claim to only a few days ago. It's only half finished, and just looking at it makes her heart ache, but there's a strange burst of energy as she eyes the swirls of purple and crimson. As her fingertips trace over the center where a circle of that signature Aird red has soaked into the canvas, Therese closes her eyes and remembers every instance she's seen it in the flesh – from Carol's painted fingernails to her barely buttoned blouses. Or, of course, the bold lipstick that Therese is desperate to see – and _kiss_.

An hour later, Therese is back on the road, racing to 105 Heather Creek. She recognizes Carol's car as she pulls into the driveway, and it isn't until she cuts the engine of her Ford that she realizes how terribly she is shaking and how fast her heart is beating.

It only takes two knocks before the front door swings open.

“Hi.”

Carol, standing on the other side of the entryway, says nothing. She looks tired – the hint of darkness beneath her eyes shows she probably hasn't slept in a week. Her usual, perfect posture is gone, and she slumps dejectedly – bruised, broken and vulnerable. She inhales sharply, as though she's about to speak – either in a greeting or to say “kindly fuck off” – but before she gets the chance to, Therese steps forward and caresses Carol's face tenderly. Without an ounce of hesitation, she kisses her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was absolutely overwhelmed and blown away by the response to the last chapter. You all are amazing. 
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more.


	33. Chapter 33

While her drive to Carol's home had been a spontaneous choice, Therese had planned her kiss and words carefully as she navigated down the freeway to Heather Creek. With her lips and sweet affirmations, Therese expects Carol to melt into her, to accept her apology without any uncertainty. So when Carol pulls away, Therese's hands falling from her face, the blood rushes from her cheeks and she feels as though she's been punched in the gut.

“Therese,” Carol says, her voice low yet calm. She leans against the wooden doorframe and stares forward, her cocked slightly.

The hurt must be written all over her face as Therese blinks, confused. “Can I come in?” she asks, her voice shaky with the hint of tears and tightness in her throat.

“I...” Carol looks down at her feet – bare, having been comfortably inside her home – and runs her fingers through her hair. A wave of it falls in her eyes, and Therese resists the urge to reach forward and brush it away from her face. “For a few minutes, ok?”

“Ok,” Therese agrees. With her body a bit slumped, matching her mood, she steps into the foyer of Carol's home and follows wordlessly as she's led into the kitchen. Although she'd visited in the past, she'd never seen the kitchen, and if she weren't feeling so heartbroken, she might comment on how absolutely stunning it is. With white cabinets, black and white granite countertops, and meticulously placed crème tile floors, it's a gorgeous mix of the modern and old-world charm; being Carol's home, she'd expect nothing less.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

Therese shakes her head and takes a seat at the kitchen table in the center of the room. “No, thank you.”

Carol fixes herself a glass of ice water from the refrigerator, then leans against the door of it and sips slowly. It's as if she's trying to keep as much distance between them as humanly possible, and the act alone makes Therese want to bury her face in her hands and sob. She swallows the lump in her throat and speaks in a quiet, sullen voice. “Do you believe me when I say I'm sorry?”

“Yes,” Carol answers.

“Really?”

She sighs. “Therese, I do. But it's complicated.”

Therese's face scrunches up. “What do you mean? You said you would be here waiting. You told me-”

“Yes,” Carol interrupts, holding one hand up, “I remember. And I'm here. I wouldn't be standing here if that weren't true.” She sets her glass down onto the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. Unlike the warm, flirty expression Therese is used to, there's a cold, scolding, “mom”-type body language that makes Therese feel a little uncomfortable; she sits up a little straighter in her chair while she listens. “You've always wanted me to be honest with you, right? That's what's caused so much of this. So can I speak openly with you right now?”

Therese nods.

“I'm hurt. I'm not an emotional woman. I've been through a lot that has forced me to be this way. And I understand you are young, and this is all new to you, but I told you that this would not be easy for me. I don't know how to be in relationships. I don't know how to be a good partner. But as I said, I am very fond of you-”

_Fond_. The word choice burns.

“-and whatever I have done or whatever I do, I would never intentionally hurt you.” Carol takes a deep breath before continuing. “I feel betrayed. And I feel like a bit of a fool. I understand I have not been forthright with all of the details of my life. And you are within your every right to be hurt by that. But to turn around and basically slap me in the face when I told you how it might be. I was honest, Therese. I...”

“Carol, I am so-”

“ _Sorry_ ,” she finishes. “Yes, I know.” Carol walks forward, her feet pattering against the tile as she joins Therese at the table. She sits in the chair across from her and takes Therese's trembling hands in hers, squeezing gently. “I'm sorry too. I didn't realize my keeping you shielded from everything would hurt you as badly as it has. Maybe someday I'll be able to reveal it all to you.” She reaches forward and cups Therese's cheek, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb.

“So what now?” Therese asks. There's no anger in her voice, just a genuine question.

“As you'd asked for yourself before, I think I just need some time, ok?”

“I don't want this to be over,” Therese confesses. Her voice cracks at the end as the gentle tears shift to something more steady.

“I don't want that either. Maybe we take a step back and do this the way we're supposed to. Get to know each other. Go out together. I know the situation at the school is,” Carol sighs, “ _complicated_. I want to keep you out of all of that, and I know you will feel as though I am hiding you.”

Therese feels herself crumbling. Unable to keep her composure, she looks away from the woman across from her and focuses on her own hands, picking underneath her fingernails nervously. It's ridiculous how she can't even have an adult conversation without losing herself to her emotions, but when it comes to Carol, nothing should really surprise her. When Carol stands from her seat and moves to her, Therese shatters, burying her face into Carol's chest and sobbing as gentle arms wrap around her.

“Will it ever go back to the way it was?” Therese asks between hitched breaths.

“I don't know,” Carol answers honestly. “Who knows, maybe it will be better?” She kisses Therese's temple and wipes away the brown hair stuck to her face from tears.

“I don't want to lose you,” Therese whimpers, clutching Carol tightly.

“My darling. You couldn't lose me, no matter how hard you might try.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I'm sorry.
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)


	34. Chapter 34

As the days shift into weeks – slowly, agonizingly – Therese tries to convince herself that it will get easier with time. She waits for text messages that don't arrive, for phone calls that never come through. Carol sends her nanny in with Rindy in the morning, or, on occasion when she thinks Therese isn't watching, drops Rindy off at the door a few feet away instead of joining her in the classroom. It hurts, and try as she might, it is not always easy to hide the pain on her face as Rindy shuffles her way inside.

They are both stubborn women, and she pictures Carol at her home, stewing about the same way she is. But time heals all wounds, as the staying goes, and Therese forces herself to give Carol exactly what she needs, even if it breaks her heart in the process.

Despite the initial interest from her students, Therese finds herself completely alone in her classroom for the first meeting of the newly revived art club. She hasn't exactly felt up to promoting it the way she should have been – barely remembering it herself until a calendar reminder had popped up on her phone and computer. Still, she can't help but feel a bit depressed as she sits at her desk, cutting out stars of various sizes and colors from a stack of construction paper. No-shows be damned, Therese is still determined to finish the decorations she'd promised.

As if on cue, Erin steps into her classroom in all her shit-eating-grin glory. “Big crowd,” she comments, looking around at each empty desk.

How wonderful it would be to slap that damned smirk off her face. Therese completely ignores Erin's presence, taking her anger and frustration out on the piece of paper in her hands. A particularly jagged corner catches across her finger, and Therese winches as a line of blood pools at her skin. She pulls apart each drawer in her desk in a frantic search for a bandaid. As a Kindergarten teacher, she's always made sure to keep such necessities around, but of course they go missing the one moment she needs them.

“This was the reason this club fell apart in the first place. Not enough interest. I would say you should be worried about it, but seems like you have people in high places that will keep things going far longer than they should.” Erin pauses. “Or at least, you used to.”

“What are you getting at, Erin?” Therese sighs, exasperated. Digging at the bottom of her bag, she finds an old, half-crumpled up bandaid. It's not exactly what'd she'd wanted, but it will do for the time being. Tearing open the wrapper, she twists the bandaid tightly around her finger.

“Will you be going to the festival before the dance?” Erin asks, ignoring Therese's question.

“I don't really know much about it, honestly. I'm not from here and it's my first year.”

“Right,” Erin hums. “Forestmeadow always puts on a festival during the day before the first dance of the year. A carnival of sorts. There's food and games and fundraisers for the school. We're short a few people this year with Melinda out on maternity leave and Gail's retirement. Since you don't seem to be particularly preoccupied with,” Erin gestures around the room, “ _this_ , would you mind helping out with face painting? I'll assume you'll be attending the dance too since you're decorating?”

“That is quite an assumption.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I wasn't planning on going. I'll have the decorations done in plenty of time and they should be easy enough to put up without my involvement. But if it's that big of a deal...” Therese sighs. It's not like she has much of anything else to do. It might even be a nice distraction in light of recent events. “Where is this festival at, exactly?”

“The Fairgrounds a mile or so away. Starts at 2pm, so we'd probably want you to be there no later than 1? It goes well into the evening for those who don't want to attend the dance, but you won't be obligated for anything more than a few hours.”

“Lucky me.”

“So you'll do it?”

Therese taps her fingertips against her desk, contemplating. Erin's been nothing but a Grade A Pain-in-the-Ass since they've met. She owes her absolutely nothing, and she would certainly deserve the cold shoulder Therese desperately wants to give her. But she's a people pleaser, sometimes to her own detriment, and even though something practically _screams_ at her to tell Erin to shove off, she acquiesces with a nod.

Once Erin leaves, Therese decides that fifty stars are about as much as she can muster for the day. She leaves the supplies where they are on her desk, grabs her bag and cell phone, and decides to head home. After over an hour of waiting, she's certain no students are miraculously going to show up wanting to craft.

The building is almost empty as she heads toward the exit, with most of the faculty and staff having left shortly after the end-of-day bell. Just down the hall to the left of the front office, a few steps away from her own classroom, Therese notices several people in front of the conference room conversing. Unlike her own attire – a modest purple and white patterned t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans – they are each dressed quite fine in business suits. All men, of course, except for one woman to the far right, somewhat detached from the rest of the conversation, turned in their direction to engage but not _really_ paying much attention. She pushes a few loose curls away from the front of her face, and Therese is simply captivated.

It's only been a few weeks since she's seen Carol, but Christ, if it's even possible, she's more stunning than before. In her purple blazer, white blouse and black slacks that compliment her thin waist, Carol is the epitome of sophisticated and beautiful. Therese watches her with rapt attention.

It takes a few seconds for Carol to notice her on the opposite end of the hallway. When she finally sees her, a genuine smile washes over her face, so different than the forced, polite expression she uses with her colleagues. Carol wiggles her fingers at her side in a makeshift wave in Therese's direction that, in turn, makes her heart practically soar.

Oh, how desperate Therese is to run to her. Interrupt the stuffy meeting with some ridiculous excuse just to talk to Carol, to be in her proximity, close enough to smell her perfume and feel her fingertips brush against her hand, up her arm to caress her elbow. But it is not the time, nor the place, and Therese somehow finds the self control to ground herself at the end of the hallway, satisfied with their subtle hello before pulling the strap of her bag tighter over her shoulder and walking away. She holds her breath the entire time she walks through the parking lot to her car, waiting for Carol to come running behind her, to wrap her arms around her and kiss her without any concern for those around them. When she slides into the driver's seat, she exhales and grips the wheel tightly.

Her phone buzzes from its place in her bag. Before turning her key, she grabs her phone and taps at the screen, skin tingling when she notices a single text notification.

 **Carol:** _You look beautiful today_.

Therese smiles, all cheeks and teeth and dimples.

 **Therese:** _So do you_.

**-X-X-X-X-**

The next morning, Rindy steps into the classroom looking a bit forlorn, her bookbag hanging loosely over one shoulder and her usually clipped-back hair dangling in front of her face.

“Good morning,” Therese greets cheerily, hoping to get some sort of response out of her favorite student.

Rindy says nothing, hanging her bag on her designated hook before slumping into her seat at the front of the class.

Concerned, Therese follows her. She gently pushes the hair away from the girl's face, and when her fingers touch the skin at her forehead and temple, Therese realizes that poor Rindy is positively burning up. “Oh honey,” Therese coos. “Are you feeling ok?”

“My tummy hurts,” Rindy groans, closing her eyes.

“Ok, let's get you to the nurse.”

It's certainly not the first time she's had to deal with a sick student, but there's something particularly heart wrenching about feeling Rindy fold into her helplessly, her face buried into the side of her jeans while small fingers curl around the bottom of her blouse. With class starting in just a few minutes, there isn't much time to find a substitute, but Therese is feeling absolutely desperate, and, being the only person she can think of who might be able to help, she ducks into Abby's classroom, finding her writing at her blackboard.

“Abby, I'm so sorry to bother you. Are you busy?”

Abby shakes her head. “No, my class has gym first period. What's wrong?”

“Rindy's sick. I'm going to go-”

“I can call Carol,” Abby offers, rushing to their side.

“No no. I'll take her down to the nurse's office and get a hold of her mom, I just need someone to keep an eye on my classroom for a little while. Would you be able to-”

“Of course,” Abby interrupts. “Go.”

Rindy clutches her head and whimpers. Taking the girl's tiny hand in hers, Therese leads her down the hall to the nurse, who clearly already has her hands full when they step inside to find two other children, one with a thermometer sticking out of the corner of her mouth and the other doubled over with his face in a bucket.

“This is Rindy Aird,” Therese explains. “She's not feeling well and she's burning up. I think she needs to go home.”

“She can sit down over there and I'll look after her in just a minute. Seems to be something going around today. They're going down like flies.” The nurse washes her hands, then takes the thermometer out of the girl's mouth to look at the temperature. “I need to make a few parent phone calls and then I'll be right back, ok?”

Frustrated, Therese scoops Rindy up in her lap and sits down with her. Clearly in pain, she buries her face into the nape of Therese's neck and wraps her arms around her shoulder.

“It's ok,” Therese assures, rubbing her back.

After waiting ten minutes, Therese decides to take things into her own hands. She shifts to grab her cell phone from her left pocket, then selects Carol's number from her contacts. It rings once, twice, three times, and just when she's certain Carol's going to ignore her call, her low, even voice speaks on the other end.

“Therese?”

“Carol. I'm sorry to bother you, but Rindy-”

“Oh God, is she ok?” The panic rises in Carol's voice.

“She's not feeling well. I'm sitting in the nurse's office with her but-”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

As if Therese had any doubt, Carol makes it to the school in practically record time. She bursts into the nurse's office, searching desperately until she finds Therese and Rindy in the corner.

“Mama,” Rindy groans, her voice hoarse.

“Oh, my darling.” Carol carefully scoops her up from Therse's arms, rocking her back and forth. “Are you ok?”

“I don't feel good. Daddy told me I had to be a big girl but-”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Carol’s jaw clenches and her eyes narrow. When she meets Therese's gaze, though, her demeanor immediately softens. “Thank you for staying with her. It's always soothing to be with a familiar face.” She rubs her palm across the middle of Rindy's back.

“Mrs. Aird.” The nurse returns with a clipboard and pen. “If you'll just sign her out for the day, she ca-”

“Yes,” Carol interrupts, clearly annoyed. “I know how this works.” She scribbles her signature at the bottom of the paper and tosses the pen down onto it. The nurse shrugs and moves to tend to another ill student on the other side of the room. Before leaving, Carol takes Therese's hand in hers and squeezes. “I'm going to take her home now. If you'd like to come over tonight and...” Carol shifts on her heels and angles Rindy to rest on her opposite hip. “I mean, if you want to check up on her, I'll be around.”

Therese smiles. “Take care, you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)


	35. Chapter 35

Once Rindy has safely left in the arms of her mother, Therese returns to her classroom, but remains distracted for the rest of the day. Primary colors and the alphabet suddenly don't seem all that important, and she finds her focus waning throughout the day, more concerned for Rindy and her undoubtably worried mother. Despite this, Therese struggles with the options in front of her – respect Carol's wish for space and go home to her empty apartment for the weekend, or check in on the two of them and – _hopefully_ – spend the night. Carol had been the one to invite her, but whether there were any hidden intentions to it remains unclear, and she's terrified to ruin even the tiniest bit of progress they've made.

“Heard anything?” Abby asks, peeking her head into Therese's classroom as she prepares to leave.

“Not since Carol came to get her.” Trying not to pry, Therese adds, “Have you?”

“No. I sent her a text at lunch to see if she needed anything, but never heard back. She's probably been busy taking care of Rindy. Poor girl looked like she was about to vomit all over the floor when you'd ran her over.”

“I know,” Therese agrees, nodding. She hesitates to overshare, still not completely certain of Abby's relationship with Carol, but if she doesn't talk to someone about it, she feels as though she will practically burst. “She invited me over,” she blurts.

A smile spreads across Abby's face. “Oh she did?”

“Yeah...said if I wanted to check on Rindy, that I was welcome to come over.”

Abby laughs softly to herself, shaking her head. “Oh, Carol...that woman is about as subtle as a brick through a window.”

Therese simply stares, doe-eyed.

“Therese,” Abby begins, stepping forward to settle against the side of her desk, “if you don't go to her tonight, I will personally smack you over the head with one of my student's history books. And trust me, those things weigh a good ten pounds each.”

Smiling shyly, Therese tucks her hair behind her ears and looks down at her shoes. “I'm afraid,” she confesses. “I kinda...messed things up before.”

“I know.”

“I just...acted on impulse. I felt like she was keeping secrets from me. I'd been so swept up in all of the romance that I hadn't stopped to think about anything else. I think I knew all along, even if I didn't want to admit it.” Therese lifts her head. “A relationship with a parent is one thing. A relationship with my pseudo-boss though?” Overwhelmed, she rubs her temple.

“It's risky for her too,” Abby counters. “You must understand that after Harge up and left this place, this was all Carol had. She's made this community her life. She's put so much time and effort into this school, uses it to focus her energy elsewhere and ignore her own pain.” Resting her palms behind her, Abby leans back a little further on the desk. “Has she talked about it at all with you? About what happened?”

Therese tries to recall all the details of their conversation. It had been such a whirlwind weekend that she likely hadn't realized the magnitude of what Carol had told her. “A little bit. I don't think I know the whole story.”

“You've met Harge, yes?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Carol is an incredibly driven woman. Successful, smart, but emotionally, she is a mess. Latched onto the first person who really showed her any affection. And that's all I'll call it, because it wasn't love, it was affection. Harge's motives weren't clear to her until it was too late. He didn't want _her_. He wanted her connections, wanted to rise up in a way that he couldn't do alone because he's...well... _Harge_.” Abby rolls her eyes. “And she fell for it. Vulnerable and starved, she was the perfect target in a position of power.”

The pieces of the puzzle suddenly come together, and Therese feels as though she's been kicked in the stomach.

“It isn't my place to tell you all the details. That needs to come from Carol and Carol alone. But be good to her, Therese. Be patient and kind and love her. She has built a wall around herself over the years that no one else...” Abby sits up straight, settling her hands in her lap. Looking down at them, a wave of sadness washes over her face. “You're special, Therese. Don't be stupid enough to not realize that. It hurts more than just you.”

Therese takes Abby's hand and squeezes. “You're a really good friend to her.”

“Yeah yeah,” Abby laughs again, a bit teary.

Suddenly feeling more sure of herself, Therese grabs her belongings and heads to the door, with Abby following only a few feet behind. Just as she's about to lock up the door, Therese turns. “One more question. What the hell is up with Erin Smithson and why do I get the impression she wants to burn me alive on a daily basis?”

Abby gasps. “Oh, _tha_ t bitch.”

Together, they erupt into a fit of laughter.

**-X-X-X-X-**

When she arrives at Carol's home, Therese is careful to knock quietly, hoping it will be loud enough to alert her but not enough to wake a sleeping Rindy. The door quickly swings open, Carol standing on the other side of it in all her glory. She's still wearing the light yellow blouse she'd worn earlier into the school, but she's changed out of her slacks and into a pair of dark-wash jeans. Although she usually wears her hair down, it's now pulled up in a loose ponytail, and the way her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows signals to Therese that she's been dealing with a very sick kid for most of the day. Although Carol looks stunning every moment of every day, she also looks positively exhausted.

“Therese,” she greets sharply, almost like she's out of breath.

“Hi.” Therese steps inside, kicking off her heels and setting them on the mat near the entryway. “How's she doing?”

“Finally settled down a bit. I tried getting her to eat some chicken soup and crackers and she ended up throwing up all over herself and her bed. So I needed to change her sheets and blankets before she could go back in, but then I had to help her in the bathroom while she was sick, so I couldn't get her bed put back together and...” Carol sighs. “These are the hardest moments as a single parent.”

“Is there anything I can do? Can I help with the laundry? Cook _you_ something to eat?” Therese runs her hand up and down Carol's forearm.

“Oh, you don't have to-”

“I _want_ to,” Therese insists.

Too tired to argue, Carol agrees to let her make dinner, silently leading her into the kitchen. “There's not much in here,” she confesses, sinking down into one of the wooden chairs at their dinner table. “I usually go shopping on Saturday mornings, so-”

“Hey.” Therese stops in front of Carol and cups her face, stroking across her cheeks with her thumbs. “It's ok. How does a can of soup sound?”

“That's perfect.” A few seconds later, she adds, “Thank you.”

Although she's not very familiar with the setup of the kitchen, it isn't difficult for Therese to find a can of Campbell's soup at the back of Carol's cabinet and a small pot to heat it in. It takes a bit of rummaging to find a spoon and a bowl that isn't made for a child – plastic, with stars and monkeys on it – but in less than 15 minutes' time, she carefully carries the steaming bowl over to Carol and sets it down in front of her with a smile. “It's hot,” she warns, handing over the spoon.

Just as Carol's about to take her first bite, her cell phone chimes. She digs it out of her pocket, and the look on her face makes it immediately clear who is calling.

“You have a lot of nerve calling _now_.”

Therese tries not to eavesdrop, but it's practically impossible with the way the deep voice on the other end is hollering.

“You're complaining about _my_ taking her home on your weekend when _you_ thought it was a good idea for her to go to school sick? I believe the words that came out of our daughter's mouth were ' _daddy told me I had to be a big girl_ '.”

“Hang up,” Therese mouths, feeling her blood begin to boil.

“No, I will _not_ listen to you belittle me. I am perfectly capable of taking care of my daughter. I did it alone while we were married, and I can certainly do it alone now as well.” She looks at Therese from across the table and her expression instantly softens. “Besides, I'm _not_ alone.”

Now Harge sounds positively frantic.

“Goodbye Harge.” More screaming. “ _Goodbye_ Harge.”

When Therese hears the particularly foul name that comes from Harge's mouth, she reaches across the table and snatches the phone from Carol's cold hands, not caring whether she will come to regret it later. “Goodbye, Mr. Aird.” With that, she ends the call.

Carol blinks, astonished by Therese's sudden display of control. “He's...”

“An asshole,” Therese finishes.

“To put it mildly.”

Staring at each other from either side of the table, Therese smiles first, hoping to brighten Carol's mood. And although she does smile in turn, it's a bit broken and shaky until she crumbles, tears falling freely. Embarrassed, she hides her face in her hands. “I'm so sorry,” she chokes.

Without hesitating, Therese jumps up from her seat and pulls Carol against her. Carol's sobs shake them both, but she thinks nothing of it, stroking and swaying and caressing and assuring in a soft, calm voice. “Don't you dare apologize.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)
> 
> A reminder that you can always come say hi on [My Tumblr](http://awomanontheverge.tumblr.com) as well. Just make sure to leave a comment here first ;)


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Apologies for the delay - the wife and I took a short, lovely trip across the country, and then I came back to a total disaster at work. Thanks for sticking with me!

Insisting that Carol rests, Therese takes on the responsibility of caring for Rindy for a few hours. Carol hesitates at first, but her exhaustion eventually gets the better of her. Confident that Therese will alert her if anything is wrong, she tiptoes quietly to her bedroom and curls up for a nap, falling asleep within a matter of minutes.

While her mother sleeps, Rindy does as well. Therese watches her from the rocking chair across the room, listening to the girl's steady breathing as it puffs against the pillow near her cheek. The bedroom is the epitome of “little girl”, pink and purple at every corner of it. The blanket on her bed has tiny stars, rainbows and unicorns across it, with pillowcases to match. Even the small paint set in her arts and crafts corner has unicorns on it; Therese certainly doesn't have to guess hard as to what animal is Rindy's favorite, making a mental note for the future.

The house is quiet as mother and daughter sleep, and Therese finds herself nodding off as the chair rocks back and forth. Yet, the last thing she wants is for Carol to wake up and find her asleep on the job she'd insisted on taking, so she stands from the chair and busies herself with the paper and colored pencils she finds in the art nook on the other side of the room. She doesn't recall the last time she's drawn a _unicorn_ , but she'd sketched more than her fair share of horses in an animal life-drawing course in college, and once she's finished with the basic outline of its face, the details come effortlessly. For the first time in her life, Therese actually _wishes_ she had sparkles of some variety – the perfect finishing touch to a portrait of a unicorn.

Holding up her finished project to the light – kept low and dim as Rindy sleeps – she admires the quick drawing. There's something missing, but she can't put her finger on it. Squinting, she eyes the paper up and down to determine what to do with the empty space at the top.

“Miss Therese?”

Therese looks up to find Rindy upright in bed, rubbing her blurry eyes with the back of her hand as she wipes the sleep away from them. “Hi sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts, but my tummy feels a lot better.” Rindy stretches her little body. “What are you drawing?”

“Oh this?” Therese smiles coyly. “I don't know about you, but I really love unicorns. I thought it would be fun to draw one to pass the time.” She holds up the piece of white paper so Rindy can see it from where she lays in bed. “What do you think?”

Wide-eyed with excitement, Rindy gasps. “Oh, I love it so much!” she exclaims, clutching her hands together.

“I think it's missing something, though.”

“A rainbow. Unicorns climb them so they can reach the stars and the sun.”

“Well duuuuh,” Therese replies playfully. “Why didn't _I_ think of that?” Gathering all of the different colors she'll need, she lines the pencils in a row, sorted by the order she will use them, and begins to draw wide half-ovals behind the unicorn. “So, do you like to draw a lot in here?”

“Yeah. Mommy likes to draw with me too. She's pretty good.” Rindy giggles. “But not as good as you.”

“I didn't see you at the art club the other day.” Therese tries to be reticent with her words, especially with the five-year-old, who may repeat things to her mother in ways she doesn't intend. “You'd signed up, but-”

“Mommy was really sad that night. I had to stay with her so she would be happy. I showed her my favoritest cartoons and we blew some bubbles and she even let me eat some cake for dinner.” She smiles, lopsided. “But mommy won't be sad anymore because you're here with her.”

Therese stops, setting the red colored pencil down in her hand. “Did she say something to you?”

“No, Aunt Abby told me. I asked her why Mommy was crying and she said Mommy had a fight with someone she really loved and so it made her really sad and lonely.”

“And how do you know she was talking about me?”

Rindy shrugs.

“Well hello you two.”

Therese turns to the doorway where Carol stands, looking sleep-mussed yet surprisingly refreshed. The dark wash jeans have been replaced with a pair of loose sweatpants, casual but incredibly sexy. There's something strangely intoxicating about this relaxed version of Carol, a side of her that Therese has rarely seen in their time together. She can sense that Carol may be a bit self-conscious as she stands there, shielding herself with her arms around her waist. It's far from the perfect persona she tries to convince others of, juggling work and life and motherhood without even an inkling of stress. And yet, Therese thinks she prefers this version of Carol – honest, flawed, and beautiful nevertheless.

“How is my princess feeling?” Carol moves to her daughter's bedside, stroking her hair and showering the top of her head in quick kisses.

Rindy, of course, squirms in turn, thoroughly embarrassed by her mother's behavior in front of her favorite teacher. “Maaaaaa.”

“One day, you will look back and wish I was here to kiss and snuggle you!”

“It's true,” Therese interjects with a wink.

“And where will you be?” Rindy asks, teasing.

“Somewhere sunny on a beach!” Carol laughs.

“Without me?” Unsurprisingly, Rindy has mean puppy dog eyes.

“I could never leave you, my darling.”

Nuzzling into her mother's arms, Rindy suddenly remembers Therese's magnificent unicorn. “Did you see what Miss Therese drew?! It's a unicorn!!”

“Oh?” Carol pulls away to stand behind Therese at the arts and crafts table. As she admires the drawing set in the center of it, she rests her hands on Therese's shoulders, and the contact alone – even through her top – makes the hair on Therese's arms stand. She closes her eyes and leans back just a bit, realizing just how she's missed the closeness of Carol – her gentle touch, the scent of her perfume, the lazy circles against her skin. “This is wonderful, Therese. How could you _ever_ have guessed that unicorns are my daughter's favorite animal?”

“Really? I had absolutely _no_ idea.”

They laugh together in the way only knowing adults do. Rindy, completely clueless, is overjoyed by her unexpected gift, and with a newfound pep in her step, she leaps out of bed and joins the two of them, pulling them into a makeshift hug. “I love it so much.” Rindy looks up at her mother questioningly. “Can we frame it and put it above my bed?”

“Of course. I'll pick up a frame this weekend.”

“Oh, that's not necessary,” Therese interjects. “I have plenty of them in my apartment. I'll bring one over the next time-” She blushes and looks down at her hands. “I can bring it to school one day and you can take it home with you?”

Rindy nods vigorously.

“Since someone is feeling a bit better, why don't we try to eat a little something downstairs, hmm?” Carol suggests.

“Ok!' Within seconds, Rindy bounces down the staircase, leaving her mother and teacher alone in her bedroom.

“Thank you for watching her.” Carol walks around to the other side of the table to face Therese. “I didn't realize how exhausted I was until my head hit the pillow and..” She snaps her fingers.

“I knew. That's why I stayed.”

Carol takes Therese's hand and caresses it with her thumb. “Is that the only reason?”

The white plastic chairs are not exactly built for anyone over four feet tall, and Therese finds herself at an odd angle as she tries to lean in closer to Carol, fingers laced together and their lips close. It goes against all the boundaries they've set for themselves, and yet the moment just seems perfect. They kiss tentatively, featherlight, and as Carol's hand moves up to caress the back of Therese's neck, Rindy's voice booms from the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you two _comiiiiiiiing_?”

**-X-X-X-X-**

“I'm sorry she fell asleep on you,” Carol whispers, Rindy cradled tight against her body as they tiptoe up the stairs several hours later. After two Disney movie favorites – Alice in Wonderland (Carol's) and Beauty and the Beast (Rindy's) – they'd only made it through the first ten minutes of The Little Mermaid before Therese had found herself with a small child curled up in her lap, snoring loudly against her chest. By the time Ariel had begun to sing her woes about not being part of the human world, both adults were certain that it was officially bedtime, and after turning the DVD player off, they'd made their way upstairs, quiet as possible to not wake the dreaming child.

“It's totally fine. I didn't mind.”

Stepping into the room, Carol carefully tucks Rindy into bed, fixing her pillow and pulling the blankets securely around her. Practically dead to the world, Rindy doesn't even bat an eyelash, sleeping peacefully through it all.

“Any big plans this weekend?” Carol asks when they return to the living room, making small talk, finally alone.

“Not really. The festival is next weekend and there's a lot to do before it. I kinda volunteered myself to do face painting.”

Carol smirks. “You volunteered, or someone roped you into doing it?”

Therese shrugs. “Either way, gotta put some signs together for it and brush up on my butterflies and smiley faces and hearts.”

Picking nervously at the cuticle of her thumb, Carol focuses on her lap as she speaks. “I suppose that means you might be too busy to say the weekend? Or at least the night?”

“Do you want me to?”

Carol looks up. “Of course I do.”

“I...” Therese struggles with her answer. There's a part of her that is desperate to stay, to spend the weekend in bed, cooking together, playing with Rindy, and just going back to the way things were. But there is also a part of her that hesitates, wanting to instead go the traditional route before jumping back into anything – going out together, sharing stories, learning about each other organically. She leans in and softly kisses Carol's cheek before replying. “It's late and I'm sorta tired.”

“Right.” Carol clears her throat. “Of course. You worked all day and then came here to help me. I'm sorry if I seem selfish for wanting-”

“Oh Carol.” Therese takes her hand and squeezes assuringly. “It's not...it's nothing like that. I just...” She bites her lip. “Will you be going to the festival next weekend?”

“I hadn't really thought about it,” Carol answers honestly. Realizing Therese's intention, she adds, “Is this your way of asking me to go?”

Therese's eyes twinkle. “Maybe.”

“Well then, how could I ever say no?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's certainly been a minute, hasn't it? :)

When Therese arrives at the festival, just an hour or so before the crowds will begin to funnel in, she takes the time alone to walk around the fairgrounds and admire the scenery. Its quaintness reminds her of her childhood in the midwest, bringing out a strange feeling of fondness and emptiness. The weather is perfectly between seasons, no longer the oppressive heat of the summer, but not quite the crispness of fall that requires gloves and jackets and boots. She unbuttons the maroon sweater she's wearing, tugging it over her shoulders before tying it around her waist, to enjoy the light breeze that winds around the trees and landscape.

A tall barn at the far end of the field is dedicated to all sorts of arts and crafts, indicated by the white-painted sign hanging from the front of it; Therese decides to setup shop just a few paces away from it at a nearby picnic table. She doesn't expect much of a crowd this far back, but she'd picked up several sets of blue, red, yellow, orange and green face paint just in case, spending most of the week perfecting such classics as a smiley face, balloon and sun.

As students and parents slowly funnel in, Therese greets each of them with a warm, dimpled smile, even as they pass her by without the slightest interest. It's almost an hour into the festival when she finally gets her first request for a race car by a young boy with bright blue eyes and bleach blonde hair. While putting the finishing touches on the back wheel, a familiar face steps in line. Out of the corner of her eye, Therese notices a young girl waving excitedly, bouncing back and forth impatiently from foot to foot. Just the sight of Rindy makes the breath catch in her throat, knowing her mother must not be far behind. She's surprised, however, to find not Carol, but Harge standing in line with one controlling hand on his daughter's shoulder.

“Hi Rindy,” Therese greets as she situates herself on the picnic bench across from her. “What would you like?”

“Can I have a pumpkin? It's almost Halloween, ya know!”

“Rindy, Halloween is over a _month_ away,” Harge corrects roughly.

“A pumpkin is just fine, Mr. Aird. I'd be happy to.” Therese tries to hide the annoyance in her voice, but Harge's appearance alone irritates her. She presses the tip of her brush roughly into the orange paint, then brings the tip of it up to Rindy's sweet little cheek.

“Have you seen my wife at all?” Harge grumbles lowly, tapping at the keyboard of his cell phone as he waits impatiently.

“I wasn't aware you'd remarried,” Therese responds coyly. “Unless you're referring to Carol. In which case – _no_ , I have not seen her.”

Harge doesn't seem particularly amused by her snark, and she can practically feel his glare burning through the back of her head. As she's finishing the final details of the tiny pumpkin, Therese can feel Harge's hot breath next to her ear as he leans in. “You might want to think about the consequences of your words and actions Miss Belivet,” he warns. “You never know who might be listening.”

“Thank you for that advice, Mr. Aird. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.” Noticing a look of concern on Rindy's face across from her, Therese softens, offering a smile. “All done! Wanna see?”

Rindy nods enthusiastically.

Grabbing a hand mirror from her bag, Therese holds it up and allows the girl to admire the pumpkin on her cheek, which she immediately does with wide eyes and a toothless grin. “I love it!” she exclaims. “Thank you, Miss Therese!”

“Any time. You have a good time with your dad today, ok?” Turning in her seat, Therese looks over to Harge, her expression immediately shifting. With her jaw set, she adds, loud enough so Rindy can hear, “Maybe your dad will get you some cotton candy and let you play lots of the carnival games? Win you a prize, perhaps?”

“Daddy!!!! Can we go play the target game? With the softballs? Mom says I'm really good at-”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he interrupts. “Have a _wonderful_ time today, Miss Belivet.”

“I most _certainly_ will. I'll be sure to let Carol know you're looking for her.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

If the morning starts slow, by the time mid-afternoon rolls around, the fairgrounds have become people soup. Therese can barely keep up with the demand and finds herself running out of paint well before the end of the day. In desperate need for a break, Therese paints a smiley face for an eager redhead before heading over to the food vendors for a drink and a snack, deciding upon a hot pretzel and a fresh cup of lemonade. As she waits on the other side of the truck for her food, a familiar voice sticks out from the crowd, one that makes her shiver despite the afternoon heat. Therese looks back and forth, trying to find the source of it, knowing, _feeling_ deep in her bones that the woman behind it must be close.

“Ma'am?”

Distracted, Therese tunes the vendor out, eyes darting from parent to parent.

“Ma'am?”

Therese blinks, then turns back to the truck. A confused looking teenager holds her order in his hands, waiting for her to take it. “Yes I-I'm sorry, I thought I...” She hands over a ten-dollar bill. “Thank you.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

But she hadn't imagined it. Carol's voice had not been some hallucination, some fever dream from her paints and embarrassing loneliness. When she returns to the picnic table, a tall, familiar woman stands nearby with her hands in her blue jeans and a warm smile on her face. Her short hair shimmers beneath the early-fall sun like the gold necklace hanging at her throat and the studs fastened in her ears.

Therese admires Carol for far too long, not even trying to hide how _ridiculously_ in love she is. “Hello. What can I paint for you today?”

“What are my options?”

“Well, there is the ever-popular butterfly. Or a cat. Haven't done one of those yet.”

“What about a heart?” Carol offers, cocking her head. “What do you think?”

It catches Therese off-guard, but she hides it well. There are many ways to interpret Carol's suggestion, but for the time being, she simply takes it at face value. Cleaning her brush in a mason jar of water, Therese gathers a swipe of red paint and waits for Carol to settle across from her, legs dangling over each side of the seat. The tight jeans and purple v-neck tee she's wearing fit her like a glove, and Therese only falters for a second before her professionalism kicks back in. With a nervous hand, she draws the outline of the heart across Carol's right cheek.

Carol's eyes, bright as they stare across from her with a hint of a smile, shake her to her core. Still, she somehow manages to finish the simple heart, filling it in with quick strokes before grabbing her mirror to show off the finish product. “Well? What do you think?”

Carol covers Therese's hand with her own at the handle of the mirror. “Absolutely wonderful,” she compliments. “As if I'd expect something less from someone of your talent.” As long as they can without causing suspicion, they sit together, bodies close, fingertips brushing at the mirror. When a mother and daughter approach, Carol briskly leans in and whispers in her ear, then disappears as quickly as she came.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“What took you so long?” Carol breathes into her neck when they meet again at the other side of the fairgrounds, hidden behind the storage shed and the trailers that act as home for the traveling vendors. It's a spot that most of the crowd can't easily access, offering them a fleeting moment of privacy.

Therese presses a few kisses into Carol's hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo and perfume. “You wanted me to say no to a bunch of five-year-olds?”

Carol sighs. “No, of course not. I just...” She looks up and cups Therese's face. “I've missed you.”

“I've missed you too,” Therese confesses. “I thought you wanted to-”

“Take it slow?” Carol finishes. “Yes, I did. I do. I...Can we go somewhere tonight? Dinner? Wherever you want to go. In public. We can talk. And...”

“I have to go to the dance tonight,” Therese sighs, frustrated. “If I don't show up, I'm pretty certain Erin will have my head.”

“Or mine,” Carol adds with a laugh.

“What do you-”

Carol silences her with a kiss, rough and needy. Her hands – strong, quick – twist into Therese's hair and pull her closer. Despite – or perhaps, _because of_ – the possibility of being caught waiting just around the corner, Therese finds herself hungrier than ever, tongue hot against Carol's as her fingers run along her throat, twirling around the gold chain that sits there before brushing over the sharp outline of her collarbone.

“The dance,” Therese whispers as Carol finds her neck, kissing and sucking in a way that will definitely leave a bruise. “Will you meet me afterward? I won't be late. I just have to put up the decorations and-” Her voice breaks as Carol licks along her pulse.

The sound of shuffling grass and a snapped branch scares her. Carol and Therese move several feet from away from each other, but that hardly does much to curb the suspicion of an onlooker, their hair mussed, lips swollen, makeup smudged. And it comes as little surprise when Erin shoots the both of them a pointedly dirty look when she passes behind the trailers.

“I'll text you.”

This time, it's Therese who disappears as quickly as she came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://awomanontheverge.tumblr.com/), but make sure to leave a comment below first ;)


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